


Samsara: Cities in Dust

by Shivani



Series: Samsara [5]
Category: Fallout 4, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Time Skips, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 208,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shivani/pseuds/Shivani
Summary: Sequel toSamsara: Semi Sacred Geometry. Another life, in a place with bad food, bad weather, and bad luck (for some).
Relationships: Reborn/Sawada Tsunayoshi
Series: Samsara [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1190533
Comments: 133
Kudos: 143





	1. λ34: 01: Commonwealth

**Author's Note:**

> **1**. On my last trip to visit family I was riding in the car with my brother, and [Cities in Dust](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsOHvP1XnRg) (Siouxsie and the Banshees) cued up from his playlist. And I thought to myself, “Self, I know what the next Samsara will be.” It’s an awesome song, so go have a listen.
> 
>  **2**. The usual applies. If I cared enough to finish it, I post it, no matter how much I might not be thrilled with parts of it.
> 
>  **3**. In some respects it was about time I addressed a particular elephant in the room.
> 
>  **4**. The other usual applies. Stuff has been reworked, lines shuffled or altered… Cut content was used, to some degree.
> 
>  **5**. There are mods involved, so not everything is bog standard FO4. Two of the modded-in vaults have had their numbers changed to match vaults that were cut from the game. Other cut vaults were restored (and the interiors were left purposefully vague).
> 
>  **6**. Extensive use of the wiki to get dialogue files for various characters (because I'm not insane enough to open the Creation Kit to get at the dialogue trees). In some cases the scene wigged out and I didn’t get to record any of it for later transcription, so I had to do an end around. As it was I realized I was missing a recording and had to replay a chunk just to get that. Thankfully I shift older saves to a backup folder and could find the one I needed to replay that section.
> 
>  **7**. Yes, Karen, there’s plenty of back and forth with people from previous dimensions, like, you know, former Arcobaleno. Deal with it. The manager is in quarantine and isn’t taking calls.
> 
>  **8**. As usual, people who choose to disable my workskin will get odd formatting. Not my problem if you opt for the basic site CSS.
> 
>  **9**. 1.0 (2020 07 08) Initial assembly. (24 03 2020 - 08 07 2020)

## λ34  
01: Commonwealth  
2287  
“The apocalypse? Sign me the hell up!”

Tsuna woke up with hazy memories clouding his thoughts and confusing him. He was upright, which was distinctly odd, and in some kind of pod. There was a portal-window in front of him, the edges frosted over, and through it, directly across from him, was another pod.

Through the portal-window in front of him he could see that there was a woman in that pod.

“Critical failure in cryogenic array,” a woman’s voice stated. “All vault residents must vacate immediately.”

Tsuna was pleased when the door to his pod opened, though he could have escaped without that, and as he moved to exit he fell over instead, onto his hands and knees. A coughing fit overtook him. Being subjected to cryogenics was apparently hell on the lungs. He was also shivering badly.

‘What the hell…?’ Daemon said.

A moment later his family materialized into place and Sin helped him up. Tsuna could feel his lover’s flames invading him, to check his health and fix any damage.

“Critical failure in cryogenic array. All vault residents must vacate immediately.”

Hayato wandered off to the right, then said, “Bingo! A terminal.”

“Ugh. What the everloving fuck,” he said. “I already know where we are, I just don’t get how. It was a game, for fuck’s sake.”

Mukuro eyed him.

“Fallout 4,” he said. “And I’m the Sole Survivor. If I find out this body fathered a child I may flip a table.”

“Probably not an issue,” Hayato called. “Been reading the technician’s log on this terminal and there was a mix-up during some maintenance. Odds are the pod your body was in was put in the wrong place once they were done. There is a single man listed here, a Mr Russell. In any case, I’ve unlocked the door.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said. “Once we’re up top and can see, we can step over to storage and get something to eat while we send out windows to see how well the area matches up with what I remember from the game. Be prepared for radroaches.”

Ken scowled.

When they reached the office he pointed at the terminal. “Should be an unlock in there,” he said as he swiped some stimpacks and a Colt 10mm off the desk. “And whoever wants to, check the room over there, see if there’s a weapon locked away.”

“Why are picking up a gun, tesoro?” Sin asked as he headed into the cage room to pick the lock on a wall case. “You can’t shoot to save your life.”

“I know, but once I have a Pip-Boy—assuming this works the way the game does—I’ll have VATS. And maybe if I use that often enough, I’ll learn how to aim. And if not, well, I’ll have VATS. I’ll more than likely need a metric ton of ammunition, though.”

The locked door slid open as Hayato backed away from the terminal. Sin came out moments later with the expected Cryolator, which quickly disappeared into storage.

“Right, let’s mosey.”

After clearing away all the radroaches—

“How do these things even get in?” he muttered.

—on the way to and in the vault entrance, Tsuna made a beeline for the controls. There on the mesh floor was yet another skeleton and the expected Pip-Boy. He grabbed it, letting the skeletal hand fall free, latched it around his left wrist, and hit the power. It begged the question of why it was just the single set of remains that had one, and not all of them.

“Check this out. 64k RAM,” he said with a laugh. “And this is the pinnacle in personal computing.”

His family members all responded with mirth.

“I wonder what Verde would have to say about those,” Sin said. “He’d probably be torn between interest and affront.”

“Yeah.” When the device had finished booting up he used it to enable the button for the vault door and hit it.

“Vault door cycling sequence initiated. Please stand back,” said that same woman’s voice as lights started flashing and the central mechanism jolted into movement.

“Right,” he said, sitting down to breakfast. “I could feel one of you poking around in my memories, so…”

“Stephen Russell,” Daemon said promptly.

“Excellent,” he replied. “Then I’m not Nate, not married to Nora, nor do I have a son named Shaun. If things go the way they do in the game, once we go down to Sanctuary Hills we’ll find Codsworth. I have to wonder if he’ll mistake me for Nate. After that is a prompt to head into Concord so we can coincidentally be in time to save Preston Garvey and his companions, then get a vague guilt trip about settlements.”

“Eh?”

“Preston Garvey is one of the last Minutemen. There is at least one more, but she’s nowhere to be found until a certain point. In any case, he’s somewhat derided because most of what comes out of his mouth is a plea for the Sole Survivor to go help yet another settlement.”

“None of us have ever played Fallout 4,” Chikusa said. “How about an overview of what we might expect?”

Tsuna nodded. “How much do you want me to spoil?”

That gave everyone pause. Eventually Ken said, “A basic overview of the goal and any groups.”

“The ostensible base goal is to find Shaun. The factions in the game the player can ‘join’ would be four. The first is the Minutemen, a home-grown militia, basically. Most of their quests involve either helping an existing settlement or breaking ground on a new one. Either way, you get to build up their locales to ensure a decent supply of food, water, beds, and defense. Shops are good, too.

“Second is the Railroad. They’re an analogue to the underground railroad helping escaped slaves in the nineteenth century, if that gives you a hint as to their goals. Their quests revolve around helping escapees, checking to see if a safehouse really did get destroyed, and so forth. They have a rather narrow focus.

“Third is the Brotherhood of Steel, a paramilitary force who run around the country acquiring all the tech they can to keep it out of the hands of everyone else, because clearly, the dirt-grubbers can’t be trusted with any of it. They also loathe anything that isn’t a pure human. If this lot is anything like the one in the game, we’d want precious little to do with them.

“Finally is the Institute, a bunch of scientist types descended from the survivors of the bombs dropping in the game opening, people who dug deep under CIT—an analogue of MIT, I think?—and fashioned themselves lives deep underground. They’re … not nice people, is all I’ll say for now.”

“As in defects who need to be wiped out?” Xeul asked.

Tsuna winced. “Imagine Verde with absolutely no morals, no compunction about kidnapping pretty much anyone, or experimenting on them with whatever. Then multiply that by the number of people there. They believe they are mankind’s best hope for the future. They’re just as arrogant as the Brotherhood, in my opinion, but far more cruel. The Brotherhood will simply kill a non-pure human. The Institute, however…

“I think, at the very least, we should go rescue Preston. The man was on the verge of suicide by letting himself die, so he should probably be given a hand up. The Recyclers and Fabricators will come in extremely handy, as I expect the settlement workbenches won’t be the same as presented in game.”

He got up and put his dishes in the sink, then hunted down a mirror. “Yeah, that’s gotta go,” he said, and used Naruto’s shapeshifting ability to reset his appearance to his original one. “I’m thinking once we get samples of the stuff here—stimpacks, RadAway, whatever—we can send all of it to Verde to see if he can come up with fabrication plans.

“There’s also tons of materials here we could recycle. The filth is understandable, but appalling. And, Sin? Be handy with that gun. We’ll need your quick reflexes. The mutated animals move really fast, and loot from them can be used for a variety of things. Expect dust storms, radiation storms, tons of nuclear material all over the place. I would say getting RadAway squared away is a priority, that and tracking down decontamination arches for Verde to make plans for.”

“I sincerely hope you’re going to put something decent on to wear,” Sin said, distaste evident in his voice. “Blue is not your colour.”

Tsuna laughed merrily. “Yeah. After Preston. Might as well give those people the visual cue that as a vault dweller, I might not be up to speed on the current state of the Commonwealth.”

Outside the vault, in the control pod, was a collection of bobbleheads and magazines. Tsuna blinked, then said, “Well, I didn’t expect these to be a thing, but I’ll accept it and move on.”

“I don’t get it,” Daemon said.

“Bobbleheads give perks. Like this one,” he said as he picked up the Strength Bobblehead. “My strength was just increased by one.”

“One?” Ken said skeptically.

“You have stats in the game from one to ten, at base, and they factor in to any equations for various activities. Luck helps you get critical hits, for example, so the higher your luck… You can go over ten, either by having ten already and getting the right bobblehead, or the use of certain chems. Also gear, but I’m not sure how that will work here. Charisma makes it easier for you to persuade or intimidate people, though that one I expect we can steamroll over.”

He grabbed everything there, then checked the Pip-Boy and, sure enough, according to the Status section of the Stat tab, he had eleven strength. The others were also at eleven, and he noticed he was level fifty. A glance down at the status bar showed he had perk points. After a roll of his eyes, he checked the perk chart and started choosing.

“Apparently there are some gamey parts to this adventure,” he said as he diligently perked up. “If nothing else, maybe using a gun so often—assisted by this Pip-Boy’s targeting system—will finally grind it into reflex so I have physical options other than punching shit to death. On a side note, I am now allegedly immune to fall damage and I can breathe underwater.”

Sin snickered at him.

As he backed out of the perk chart he notice the Data tab and checked it. There were quests in there, which made him glance at the sky briefly and wonder if a minion of the Great Shuffler was on the job, acting as a handler and making sure his Pip-Boy was updated as necessary. Aside from the usual one to go home, there was one called have wrench, will travel.

Somewhere nearby was something to find, outside the normal scrap. And yes, now that he was paying attention, he saw a quest marker off to the side, under some odd machine on crawler treads. Under it was a crushed robot, one of the Protectron models, if he wasn’t mistaken. Looting it updated the quest.

“Looks like these are components for a Mister Mechanic,” he said. “I’ll have to shoot all this to Verde so he can come up with plans, assuming anyone in this world would like to have a robot around to do the repair work. Time for Sanctuary, I suppose.”

He led the way down into Sanctuary and turned left, then headed toward Nate and Nora’s house. As expected, a Mr Handy was outside, engaged in a futile attempt to maintain the hedges in front of the house.

“As I live and breathe,” Codsworth said. “Oh, it’s … it’s _really_ you!”

“So this is it, huh?” he said. “The world, an utter mess.”

“What _are_ you talking about? My, but you look distraught. Perhaps mum can offer one of those hugs you humans are so fond of? Speaking of which, where is your better half?”

“…I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sir … these things you’re saying. These … these terrible things… I… I believe you need a distraction. Yes! A distraction, to calm this … this dire mood.”

Tsuna was distracted by how the robot’s “eyes” kept adjusting focus.

“It’s been ages since we’ve had a proper family activity. Checkers. Or … or perhaps charades. Oh, Shaun does so love that game. Is … is the lad, uh, with you…?”

“He was kidnapped. Someone took him away while I was still trapped.”

“It’s worse than I thought,” Codsworth said, then hummed. “You’re suffering from … hunger-induced paranoia. Not eating properly for two hundred years will do that, I’m afraid.”

“Two hundred years?” he said, mostly as prompt. He genuinely wanted to get beyond this interaction and get on with the looting of things to send to Verde.

“A bit over two hundred ten, actually, sir. Give or take a little for the Earth’s rotation and some minor dings to the ol’ chronometer. That means you’re, uh, two centuries late for dinner!” Codsworth laughed a bit. “Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished.”

“You’re acting a little weird. What’s wrong?”

“I… I… Oh, sir, it’s been just horrible! Two centuries with no one to talk to, no one to serve. I spent the first ten years trying to keep the floors waxed, but nothing gets nuclear fallout from vinyl wood. Nothing!”

The robot was having a breakdown right in front of them. It was honestly amazing that any world could produce a machine that could mimic a human so well.

“And don’t get me started on the futility of dusting a collapsed house. And the car! How do you polish rust?”

“Stay with me, pal. Focus.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything, sir. The bombs came, and all of you left in such a hurry. I thought for certain you and your family were … were dead. I did find this holotape. I believe mum was going to present it to you. As a … as a surprise. But then, well … everything ‘happened’.” Codsworth produced a holotape from somewhere and offered it up.

Tsuna said, “Thank you,” as he accepted it. He kept it awkwardly in one hand, as there was nothing so useful as pockets in a vault suit.

“Any standard holotape reading device should be able to play it back. Oh, like that Pip-Boy on your arm. That should work brilliantly. Now. Enough feeling sorry for myself. Shall we search the neighborhood together? Mum and young Shaun may turn up yet.”

“Lead the way.”

“Proud to serve, sir!”

Codsworth hummed on his way, then floated off at double speed into one of the ruined homes to engage in battle. “Nothing here but a few flies. Wait … my sensors are picking up movement in another house. Follow me!” Codsworth floated out of the house and double-timed it to another.

More bloatflies. Tsuna took the opportunity to test out VATS and aimed to take down at least one of those insects himself, despite the bog standard gun he was holding.

“Oh, tesoro,” Sin murmured. “We definitely need to get you a better gun.”

“Yeah, I hear you. And a few metric tons of ammunition, as I expect to be wasting a lot.”

“And that’s that, then. Mr Nate,” Codsworth said. “Your family isn’t here either. They’re … they’re really gone, aren’t they?”

“Thanks for trying,” he said. The robot was kind of adorable, in its own way, especially with that plummy British accent. “Any survivors out there?”

“What about Concord, sir? Plenty of people there. And last I checked, they only pummeled me with sticks a few times before I had to run back home. They’re a bit rough. You remember the way? Just across the southern footbridge out of the neighborhood and past the Red Rocket station. I shall remain here, and secure the home front!” With that, Codsworth floated off to do his patrols of a dead neighborhood, trim hedges, and obsess over cleaning duties.

Tsuna waited until the robot was a decent distance away, then looked at his family. “I’m divided on whether we strip this place bare now or just leave it. I have kind of a love-hate relationship with Sanctuary. It’s rather buggy in the game version. Hm, let’s check all the homes—and keep an eye out for more insects—and see if we can’t score some things to send to Verde. Also, we’ll need whatever simple scrap we can get to use for trading.”

“Really? Post-apocalyptic?” Verde said, leaning forward in interest.

“Yep, it’s a nightmare of unsanitary conditions and nuclear materials. We’ve got some things for you to play with, if you’re willing. Portable healing, radiation removal, and radiation resistance. There’ll be more, of course. But anything you can do by way of fabrication plans would be welcomed. Wouldn’t say no to plans for ammunition, either, but at least that we can acquire fairly easily.”

He shifted a half dozen each of stimpacks, RadAway, and Rad-X over to Verde.

“I would very much appreciate it,” Sin said. “I’ve never had to worry about healing radiation exposure before—”

Ken nodded in the background.

“—and I’d really like to have a stock of this stuff as we adventure here. Until and unless I can figure out how to do it on my own…”

Verde nodded. “Understandable. I will get started on these immediately. More would be welcome for my purposes, if you can get your hands on enough to spare.”

“There should be decent-sized towns and traders,” he said, “so yes. Soon as we have some more extras I’ll send them over. Drop point?”

“Right here should be fine.”

“Okay. We’ll be in touch.” After storing the window he pointed. “You can just see it, the Red Rocket station. Normally I wouldn’t much care about the place, but it does have an interesting feature nearby, as well as Dogmeat, a miraculously unmutated German Shepard.”

“Who the fuck names one Dogmeat?” Hayato said.

Tsuna shrugged. “We can find more scrap there, make friends with a dog, take out of bunch of molerats, and enter their den to find more scrap and a fusion core. Get enough of those and we’ll have some to send to Verde. There’s nuclear waste down there though, so I’m thinking a window rather than breaking out the chems so early.”

“This place is rather reminding me of the fifties,” Mukuro noted.

“Yes. This timeline never developed the way ours did. You’ve seen the terminals, this Pip-Boy. Vacuum tube televisions. Pretty much everything was powered with fusion after they depleted the planet’s fossil fuels. Look at the side of this house—those sockets there. Those were for fusion cores. There’s more than enough nuclear waste in the Commonwealth to gather it all up and convert it to something usable. If things stay true to the game, you’ll find that these people have no compunction about using mini-nukes to waste their enemies.”

His family just shook their heads in dismay, before they started to strip down the houses that weren’t already caved in.

“Just stack it all over by that red workbench,” he said. “Or we have one person stationed there to shove everything we drop there into it. Again, not sure how much of the game’s mechanics we’ll be dealing with. Depending, the workbench’s contents might be automatically available to any crafting stations. Which reminds me, I need to check the weapon bench.”

Sin’s brow went up.

“To see if mods are the same. If so, I can use the scrap we collect to better kit out this gun, like a larger magazine, better accuracy, and so forth. Otherwise, you’ll be picking something out for me to acquire from an ally in Italy.”

“Have you considered using your intuition to help you aim?” Chikusa asked in his quietly thoughtful way.

Tsuna’s brows went up at that. “Um, interesting… I’ll try it, yeah.”

Shortly thereafter they were gathered up at the weapon bench. Tsuna dithered for a moment, wondering how to do things, as there was not something convenient like an “Activate” prompt, then was gently pushed out of the way by Sin, who took his gun from him.

“Allow me,” his lover said. Sin stripped the gun down to parts on the bench and started fucking with it, humming slightly. A few minutes later the gun had been reassembled, with a much larger magazine, a different scope, receiver… “Best I could do under the circumstances. And yes, there’s a game element here. Apparently, you just decide you want to work on a weapon, and you get the interface.”

“I really do wonder how much the Great Shuffler laughs at us,” Hayato said.

Tsuna shook his head. “All right, I’ve come to one decision, anyway. This house here. Let’s chop it up, and the foundation. We’ll have to place a new one, to march with the fabrication plans Verde has already made for us. I want to make this spot the housing for the Fabricator and Recycler for this location. The crafting stations can go in here, as well.”

They had tracked down a crude cooking station near the footbridge (which Tsuna planned to recycle) and a chem station tucked behind one of the houses to go with the weapon and armor stations near the workbench.

“We should maybe get Verde to make plans for these things,” Ken said. “I mean, the Fabricators can handle the chems, armor, basic weapons, but modifications…”

“Verde wouldn’t be seeing the game aspects, though, right?” Hayato said. “That’d hinder him. Maybe just get plans for base armor kitted out to resist ballistics, radiation, and so forth, rather than worrying about mods?”

“And recycle literally everything we loot?”

Hayato nodded. “So the second building, depending on how much that workbench can store—if it’s anything like our storages, that’s one thing—should be a warehouse to hold all the material cubes. With an anchored Bounding Box, runes, or fūinjutsu as protection.”

“The warehouse should also have an air-conditioned and humidity-controlled section for food,” Xeul pointed out. “I mean, presumably, people will be settling here. They can’t be worried about their food going off. And preferably a canning station. Depending on how badly the population has regressed, we may have to teach them things like canning, preservation techniques…”

“Kami sama,” he breathed. “It was way simpler in the game. Food just didn’t go bad, unless you were playing with certain mods. But this is real life, so … yeah.”

“Game, sure,” Daemon said, “but this is life. So are those people in Concord going to patiently wait until the end of time for us to get there, or…?”

Tsuna frowned. “Shit. I have no idea. Fuck. Fine, let’s go after them now, rather than later. We can supply them with food until we have a chance to get things built here and they can use sleeping bags inside one of the less ruined houses for the time being.”

Dogmeat was waiting for them—along with the expected (to Tsuna at least) episode of _Attack of the Mole Rats_ —and consented to trundle along with them. He was a real beauty of a dog. Tsuna took a few minutes to window into the mole rat den to poke around. Thankfully, there was a fusion core inside, which was tucked away in a lead-lined box for the time being.

Hopefully they could buy up a supply and send a bunch to Verde, who could replicate the things. His Pip-Boy wasn’t giving off any warnings, but it was better to be safe until they knew Sin and Ken could heal any radiation damage they suffered, or they had plenty in the way of RadAway, Rad-X, and/or armor or clothing that had resistances built in.

Down the hill was Concord, and a surprise. Aside from the fact that all the neon was still powered, there was a sign for a Concord subway station, complete with two bubble turrets making the usual mechanical whirring sounds. Tsuna frowned and ducked inside, and was subsequently surprised to see people wandering around, merchants, a makeshift inn (only 10 caps a night!), and platforms for Diamond City and Cambridge.

A few quick purchases later and they were back on the surface, creeping toward the Museum of Freedom. The sheer amount of garbage in piles was overwhelming, and his family were all wrinkling their noses in disgust.

He nodded and kept creeping. He could hear the sound of distant gunfire, so he knew something was going down, presumably that little issue with Preston Garvey and his band of Quincy survivors.

Sin, of course, made quick work of the raiders outside, even the ones who sought cover inside the various buildings lining the main stretch. He could see Garvey up on the balcony of the museum, his laser musket at the ready. Tsuna shook his head slightly at such an odd weapon.

Once they got closer and it was (presumably) decided they were not also raiders, Garvey shouted, “Hey, up here! On the balcony! I’ve got a group of settlers inside! The raiders are almost through the door! Grab that laser musket and help us! Please!” He disappeared inside a moment later.

“If this goes the same way?” he said. “Two inside almost immediately. Another one on the ground floor, in the right-side rooms. Another two next floor up, and two more trying for the door they’re behind… Something like that. A few locks to contend with, one terminal. A fusion generator in the basement with a core we can steal.”

“Let’s mosey.”

Sin picked off the two immediately in view, on the first and second floors, then raised a brow at the crashed machine.

“Vertibird,” Tsuna supplied. “VTOL capable. The Brotherhood loves the things. We’ll find some power armor up there we’ll need a fusion core for. The gate ahead is locked, and the other one on this level is in the room to the upper right. We can always come back later and strip this place bare.”

Sin helpfully handled the gate and took out the raider (who seemed to be just as stupid as the game versions), so Tsuna dropped down through the ruined floor (which had collapsed into something like a ramp) and pointed at the door.

“So that’s a fusion reactor,” Mukuro said.

“Yeah, most of the ones in game don’t have cores we can steal—not that taking them generally seemed to kill the power for some odd reason—but I always took the ones I noticed.” The fusion core was shifted into the lead-lined box for the moment, and they headed back up the ramp after looting a toolbox and cabinet down there.

The next floor up had plenty of loot to acquire, and two more raiders.

“I’m telling you, man. Let’s just get the hell out of here. We got no reason to hang around and get shot.”

“Stop bein’ such a fucking pansy. We hold out for the others. Like we’re supposed to.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes. He supposed it would make sense. If you were part of a gang, you’d support your fellow gang members, but… He shook his head at Sin and then crept down the hall, pausing once he could see the two of them. He then leaned on his intuition and aimed, then fired.

The bullet went right through one’s head and into the other, killing them both.

“Sugoi,” Ken breathed.

“Intuition helped, it seems,” he murmured. “Two more next floor up.”

“I’m coming in there, and I’m going to skin every last one of you,” a voice filtered in from above.

“C’mon, man. They ain’t goin’ nowhere. We got other shit to deal with.”

“You hear that? I gotta go take a little walk. But I’ll be back, and you’ll be dead!”

Tsuna aimed at the door just visible in the dim light and waited. Sure enough it popped open and a raider stepped into sight. Another squeeze of his trigger and the guy exploded—“Must be that perk I took,” he muttered.

“What the hell was that?” his buddy said, then dashed into sight as well.

Sin shot him, causing Tsuna to huff.

“In a non-time sensitive situation,” Sin placated.

“Right,” he allowed.

“Come on!” Garvey yelled, having (presumably) divined that it was Tsuna’s group that had helpfully taken out the raiders. “Inside!”

Tsuna shook his head and opted to loot first, despite knowing they’d be coming back later to strip the place, and Concord in general. At the far end of the left-side rooms he found something of interest, something called ASAM Sensors, 2077 model, boxes of them, along with a holotape labeled “City Manager 2078”.

The terminal next to it had an entry regarding them.

> #### [Wrong Sensors, Wrong Everything!]
> 
> #### To Whom it May Concern,  
>    
>  We received the new version of your program, but you sent us the Pip-Boy edition! And all these doohickies you sent us are last year's model! There are hundreds of them, what are we going to do with all of these?  
>    
>  We expect you to send a courier over to pick these up, as well as deliver the correct program, the new model ones we ordered--AND we want all the optional features thrown in for our trouble--including the taser!  
>    
>  Sincerely,  
>  Jane Williams  
>  Office of the Mayor  
>  Concord, MA

“Huh,” he said. “This I don’t remember.”

“Something to investigate once we get back?” Daemon suggested.

“Yeah. Let’s go rescue us some settlers.”

Down the hallway toward the front of the building and through a door was Garvey and his cohorts. Sturges was busy tapping away at a terminal, looking busy if nothing else. Preston, of course, musket laser at the ready, immediately piped up with, “Man, I don’t know who you are, but your timing’s impeccable. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen.”

“Minutemen?” he said. “So now I’m traveling backward in time?”

“ ‘Protect the people at a minute’s notice.’ That was the idea. So I joined up, wanted to make a difference. And I did, but … things fell apart. Now it looks like I’m the last Minuteman left standing.”

“Who are these people?” he asked obligingly.

“Just folks lookin’ for a new home. A fresh start. I’ve been with ’em since Quincy. Lexington looked good for a while, but the ghouls drove us outta there. A month ago, there were twenty of us. Yesterday, there were eight. Now, we’re five. It’s just me, the Longs—Marcy and Jun—that’s old Mama Murphy on the couch. And this here’s Sturges.”

Again, obligingly, he asked, “Ghouls? What are ghouls?”

“Wow,” Garvey said. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

‘As if the vault suit didn’t give it away?” he wondered.

“Ghouls are … irradiated people. Most are just like you and me. They look pretty messed up, and live for a long time, but they’re still just people. The ones I’m talkin’ about are different. The radiation’s rotted their brains, made them feral. They’ll rip you apart, just as soon as look at you. Anyway, we figured Concord would be a safe place to settle. Those raiders proved us wrong. But … well, we do have one idea.”

“Will it be enough? To stop those maniacs?”

“Sturges? Tell them.”

Sturges turned away from the terminal to say, “There’s a crashed vertibird up on the roof. Old school. Pre-war. You might’ve seen it. Well … looks like one of it’s passengers left behind a seriously sweet goody. We’re talking a full suit of cherry T-45 power armor, military issue.”

“That’s some serious protection.”

“Oh, it gets better. Get the suit, you can rip the minigun right off the vertibird. Do that, and those raiders get an express ticket to hell. You dig?”

“Huh. Could work,” he said, outwardly serious.

“It’ll work,” Sturges said, sounding a little annoyed, “provided we can reactivate the suit. It’s totally out of juice. Probably has been for a hundred years. It can be powered up again, but we’re a bit stuck.”

“So what’s your solution?” he asked.

Garvey decided to take over. “What you’ll need is an old pre-war F.C., a standardized fusion core. Your high-grade, long-term nuclear battery. Used by the military and some companies, way back when. And we know right where to find one…”

“But we can’t get to the damn thing,” Sturges said. “It’s down in the basement, locked behind a security gate. Look, I fix things, I tinker. Bypassing security isn’t exactly my forte. You could give it a shot.”

“Yeah, we already grabbed that.”

“Well, all right,” Garvey said. “Maybe our luck’s finally turnin’ around. Once you jack the core into the power armor and grab that minigun, those raiders’ll know they picked the wrong fight. Good luck.”

“Now look who Dogmeat brought to us,” Mama Murphy chose to say.

“So he’s your dog?” Ken asked.

“Ah, he ain’t my dog. Dogmeat, he’s what you’d call his own man. You can’t own a free spirit like that. But he chooses his friends, and sticks with ’em. He’ll stay by you now. I saw it.”

Interestingly enough, Mama Murphy suffered from vitiligo.

“You ‘saw’ it?”

“It’s the chems, kid. They give ol’ Mama Murphy the ‘Sight’. Been that way for as long as I can remember.”

Which begged the question of whether the woman was a latent Esper, only temporarily activated by certain drugs.

“What’s the ‘Sight’?”

“I can see a bit of what was, and what will be. And even what is, right now. And right now, I can see there’s somethin’ comin’. Drawn by the noise, and the chaos. And it is … angry.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll stop it.”

“Oh, I wish I could help you, kid. But the Sight ain’t always clear. I’ll … keep concentratin’. Now, if I ain’t mistaken, you’ve got a job to do…”

Tsuna nodded and headed for the door, along to the next door, and through it. They were standing in the bombed out remains of an office or something. Well, there was a desk and chair there, along with a holotape he nabbed to listen to later, though he suspected he already knew what it contained.

Standing there was a set of power armor, just before the main body of the crashed vertibird.

“So, the ‘Sight’, huh?” Mukuro said. “As tempting as it is to relate everything to flames…”

“At certain, key points we can give her chems and she’ll pony up relevant information,” he said. “But doing so will make her useless except to sit in a chair, plus once too many and she’ll die of an overdose. Best choice is to convince her to give them up entirely. Then she can tend corn or something. The others either don’t like her using chems or are skeptical of her power anyway.”

“And what we can expect for the moment?”

“The second we get that minigun more raiders will appear. And then, the real prize, a deathclaw will pop out from the underground access tunnels, down at the end of the street. Considering there are turrets at that subway station, we might be aided by those in taking the thing down.”

“I volunteer to use the power armor,” Ken said.

Tsuna nodded and produced one of the fusion cores. “On a side note, when we park this thing at Sanctuary, remove the core. Otherwise, a settler will hijack the thing the second the settlement gets attacked. Not that that’d be a bad thing, but until we have enough cores for Verde to go wild…”

Ken nodded. “Soon as we don’t need it I can step it over to Sanctuary and come back.”

“While you’re there? Drop a bunch of sleeping bags into the house across from the workbench—Nate and Nora’s house. Gives them a place to sleep while we rip Sanctuary apart and rebuild it into something more civilized.”

Ken nodded again, then plugged the fusion core into the receptacle at the back of the frame. A quick turn of the wheel back there popped the frame open so that Ken could enter and closed up behind him. “Huh,” he said, his voice distorted by the armor. “I feel oddly stretched in here.” He clanked up the into the vertibird, yanked the minigun off its stand, and clanked forward.

On cue, raiders popped up again. “Up here!” a raider on the rooftop across the street bellowed. “Boss!”

“How about you get down here? Let me and my boys have a little fun!”

Ken was having way too much fun with the minigun as Sin picked off raiders with his supernatural senses. Tsuna had to use VATS to even see where they were. Fog and rain had rolled in, making everything a mess.

After approximately a dozen raiders had been downed, the deathclaw appeared at the end of the street and gamboled toward them. Dogmeat, bless his heart, was fearless in going after the thing, and Garvey was up on his balcony shooting, as well.

Tsuna got a convenient message that all the raiders had been taken care of—which Ken obviously saw, as he nodded once and stepped out. He was back before they had finished looting the dead.

“All right,” he said once they were done being vultures, “let’s go meet up with Garvey and his lot. It’s going to be dark soon.”

“I’m fine, Preston,” Mama Murphy was saying as they re-entered the museum. “Quit fussin’.”

“That was … a pretty amazin’ display,” Preston said to them. “I’m just glad you’re on our side.”

“You guys going to be okay now?” he asked, despite knowing what was in store for them.

“Yeah. For a while, anyway. We can at least move some place safer. Listen,” Garvey said, finally dropping his guard with that musket, “when we first met, you asked about the Minutemen. One thing you should know about us, we help out our friends.” He reached into his pocket and offered up some microfusion cells and a hundred caps. “So here. For everything you’ve done, thank you.”

“We didn’t do it for a reward,” Tsuna said evenly.

“Hey, sorry. I’m used to everyone being in it only for themselves. You know, you remind me of my friends. The other Minutemen, the ones who gave their lives for somethin’ bigger than themselves. You should come with us to Sanctuary. We could use the help.”

‘And isn’t that just saying something,’ he thought. “What would I need to do?”

“You’d need to stay strong,” Mama Murphy said. “Like you been. ’Cause there’s more to your destiny. I’ve seen it. And I know your pain.”

‘I highly doubt that,’ he thought, exchanging a look with his family. “What do you mean, my ‘destiny’?”

“You’re a man out of time. Out of hope. But all’s not lost. I can feel … your destiny.”

“What are you saying?” Gods forbid mystics should ever give a straight answer out of the gate.

“Even I don’t need the Sight to tell you where you should start lookin’. The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth. Diamond City. The biggest settlement around.”

Fenway Park, he wrote in an aside to his family. “What’s Diamond City have to offer?” he asked, just to keep up the level of obtuseness about the entire situation. Mama Murphy deciding it was his destiny to deal with Shaun, despite not being the kid’s father…

“Look, kid. I’m tired now. Maybe you’ll bring me some chems later. The Sight will paint a clearer picture.”

“No!” Garvey interjected. “Mama Murphy, we talked about this. That junk … it’s gonna kill you.”

Diamond City is home to Nick Valentine, he wrote as the Garvey contingent argued amongst themselves, a detective, and pretty cool, actually. He’s a synth—a synthetic human. Generation 2, which means he has a fully mechanical body and is clearly a construct.

And Gen-1?

Extremely mechanical. Gen-3 look entirely human. Literally the only way to know they aren’t is if you kill them and find something called a synth component—in the game, anyway. They’re basically cloned humans, with a control device in them, so they can be ‘shut down’ by their creators and hauled off to be reconditioned. Valentine was a prototype Gen-2—possibly more accurate to say he’s a Gen-2.5—and was given the memories of a pre-war cop, which likely explains how he ended up as a detective now.

Along the way he popped that City Manager 2078 holotape into his Pip-Boy to see what it was.

> #### Searching for Pip-Boy...  
>  Pip-Boy found. Checking system resources...  
>  Loading background utilities...  
>  Loading HUD integration...  
>  Verifying data integrity...  
>  Installation complete.  
>  Press OK to continue.

Tsuna then realized his Pip-Boy had crude controls on it aside from the ones he expected. The line with OK on it was already highlighted, so he hit the button that made sense (in the center of a small cluster of arrows) and received a message.

> #### You can now build city zoned Plots in your settlements which Settlers will build on. Each requires an ASAM sensor. Are you a New or Returning user?

After blinking in confusion he navigated to New and hit enter. He was then led through a number of questions—which amounted to him letting everything else basically run itself—and took a few minutes to poke through the painfully slow menus. One of the options (under Industrial for some reason) was a Logistics Station.

“Oh,” he muttered.

“What?”

“This is like settlement supply lines, except where it’ll automatically assign someone to both build the station and man it. Saves time and effort.” By then they had made it Sanctuary and he noticed that Garvey had a marker over his head, rather like in the game. “Convenient. Garvey wants to talk, which should close out the current quest, and he’ll direct me to Sturges, as well, to deal with the basics here. The settlement Garvey sends us to can wait a bit while we sort things out here.”

“We’ll start collecting here,” Daemon said. “Strip the place bare but for the one house—” He glanced at Ken.

“Yeah, I put sleeping bags in there.”

“—and run it all through the Recycler.”

“We should probably find the high point in this area,” Chikusa was saying as Tsuna drifted over Garvey’s way.

“Hey,” he said to the man, who was back to being Minuteman Guard On Duty.

“I’m glad you decided to come with us. I should have listened to Mama Murphy all along. Pretty nice place she’s found for us. I think we could settle down here, make it a place to call home. What do you think?”

“Yeah,” he said. “A little effort will go a long way.”

“I’ve seen people come together to build a better world. That’s what the Minutemen were all about, before it all fell apart. Anyway, I am glad you’re here. And I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got another favor to ask. Talk to Sturges, if you’re willing. I’m sure he’d be glad for all the help he can get.”

“Sure,” he said, then wandered a distance away. Having noticed a quest message, he opened the Pip-Boy to select the Miscellaneous quest for Sturges and followed the marker.

“Sturges,” he said once he found the man back behind one of the houses, banging away on the wall.

“You willin’ to do some work?” Sturges asked.

“Sure.”

“Well, for starters, we could use some real beds. We’ve been sleeping on the ground for too long. Just make sure we can sleep with a roof over our heads. Some of these old houses still look solid enough to do the trick. There’s a workbench over there you can use. Give me a holler if you need anything.”

“For the moment, there’s a bunch of sleeping bags in the house across from this one. They’re only temporary, but you guys are welcome to use them. We have plans for this area.”

“I like it,” Sturges said happily. “Having a place to sleep will improve everyone’s spirits. What we need next is a reliable source of clean water.”

“All right,” he said, and wandered off again. “This one’s gonna be harder.”

Sin and Daemon converged on him, possibly drawn by his expression. “What’s up?”

“A reliable source of clean water. I mean, I wouldn’t want to drink out of the river, either.”

“So we ask Verde,” Daemon said.

“Yeah… Let’s go duck into a building so they don’t see any of our tricks straight off.”

They chose one of the ones still standing at the back, and inside Tsuna opened a window to Verde, who was thankfully available.

“What is the situation? And do you have more to share?”

“Yes, we do,” he said, shifting over more of what they’d collected. “More coming later. Do you happen to have something like a solar-powered water purifier? Preferably with a good enough battery to last overnight or through a bout of inclement weather?”

“I do have a something that collects moisture from the air and purifies and condenses it. I could cobble on a solar system, batteries… Could probably handle the water needs for a half dozen people per day, less if it was really dry out.”

“There’s a river here, but no one is particularly inclined to drink straight from it,” he mentioned.

“And add in a reservoir to be manually filled,” Verde added. “Give me a week, check back.”

“All right. See you then,” he said, then closed the window. He then immediately opened a new one, set to a new _when_.

“Ah, there you are,” Verde said. “I have the plans you’ll need.” He indicated a flash drive, which Tsuna shifted over. “There’s also plans on there for a hydroponic system, since it seemed like a reasonable pairing.”

“Awesome. Given that these people are probably going to ask about food next, that works out nicely. Defense would be after that. Don’t suppose you have any self-contained turrets? Bullets, lasers, whatever. There are some here, but we’ve yet to run across any we can acquire to send your way.”

Verde adopted a thinking pose. “I can make plans for what I have here at my lab, but you’d need to hook them up to one of the generators I designed. Or a solar farm. Give me another week.”

“Okay.” Two seconds later he had yet another window open.

“Amazing timing on your part,” Verde said, which caused most of them to blink at the idea of any Verde cracking a joke. He indicated another flash drive, which Tsuna acquired.

“We’re going to tell the settlers we just rescued that we need to go on a scrap run,” he said. “Hopefully we can hunt down some of the things we’ve been wanting to shift your way to play with. We’ll get back to you as soon as we have more toys, all right?”

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

“Right. Let me go let Sturges know, then we can adjourn to storage and relax a little, then set off on a scrap run, such as stripping Concord bare, to start.”

“And these toys?”

“Well, I could fire up my copy of Fallout 4 to refresh my memory on the best places to loot. One place in the game I definitely remember as having decontamination arches and turrets is HalluciGen. We’d need hazmat suits to protect ourselves from the gas in there, though, or possibly what I used that one time to ‘breathe’ underwater. Shit makes you crazy. HalluciGen is south and east of Cambridge. Or north of Fenway Park and a bit east.”

“Go talk to Sturges, then we’ll bail temporarily,” Sin said.

“Right. Let the others know. I’m off to teach Sturges an old school way to purify water.”

They returned to the Concord station and grabbed a ride to Cambridge, then exited to the surface after some trading and taking note that the other destination available was Malden. They trundled southerly, to the river, keeping a careful eyes and ears out for hostiles, then crossed a bridge over the river and headed east.

He knew his family was taking careful note of the various locations they could step to later on—such as for scrapping purposes—and they eventually arrived at HalluciGen. Verde had been kind enough to provide hazmat suits for all of them. Even though they could easily window through the building, someone would have to be there in person to remove the decontamination arches without damaging them, if nothing else, and any turrets.

Xeul had set aside a part of his storage for all of that, temporarily, though he did comment, “We’ll need to find a place we can use as a warehouse here.”

“I can think of three vaults offhand,” he replied. “They’d need the vermin cleaned out, to be gutted, and built back up. They might as well be used for something other than sick experiments. Okay, inside expect to see a lot of psycho Gunners, infected with HalluciGen’s gas. Supposedly a method of crowd control, but it didn’t exactly work well. Assuming things play out as I expect them to, anyway.”

“And once it’s safe—relatively speaking—we grab those arches, turrets, and gut the place for scrap,” Hayato said.

Tsuna nodded. “No reason not to.” Inside was just as insane as he expected it to be—the Gunner corpses outside were a clue—and they spent quite some time putting those people out of their misery. The gas was everywhere, and a voice that sounded curiously like Data from _Star Trek_ kept repeating that there had been a gas leak and that everyone should evacuate.

“Suppose if we get those arches working, we should run everything through them first before running it all through a Recycler,” Chikusa commented.

“Not a bad idea,” Mukuro said. “We have no idea if this gas would linger, leave behind some kind of contaminant residue. Guess we could scrub the arches and turrets down with disinfectants first, then let Verde have them. Come back later to strip this place.”

“I’m torn between giving Verde any unruptured cannisters of the gas or launching the stuff into space,” Tsuna said. “It’s not like I can’t open a window to space now.”

“Give them to Verde so he can come up with a counter. Then we could hose the place down before scrapping it,” Daemon said.

“Eh, all right. Let’s get to work.”

Verde was thrilled to have more toys to play with. “I’ll get right on this. And yes, I’ll wear a hazmat suit until I am sure there are no contaminants. I’ll also investigate the fusion cores you provided. Given the sheer amount of nuclear material you said is available, I might be able to come up with plans for those, too.”

“Well hopefully you can reverse engineer the gas in those cannisters,” he said. “As Daemon pointed out, if we had a counter, we could hose that whole building down so we could scrap it without worrying that any of it will contaminate our Recyclers or Fabricators. True, we can just skip that building, but…”

“But why waste all the materials?” Verde said with a nod. “The usual. Check back in a week. It might take more than that, though.”

“In the meantime we’ll start stripping places on the way back to Sanctuary, build up a stockpile of materials.”

“See you then,” Verde replied, already adopting a thinking pose and forgetting they existed.

Tsuna chuckled and closed the window, then opened one to Reborn.

“Heul,” Reborn said warmly. “What’s up?”

“Aside from wishing to enjoy your company?” he said with a smile. “I have a favor to ask, which I will repay. And we can also tell you all about our current situation.”

“All right,” Reborn said, setting his book aside.

“As for the favor, we would greatly appreciate you doing a grocery run for us. We have plenty of staples still, but we’re low on fresh fruit, vegetables, and meats—our garden can only provide so much at once. If you could send a minion out…”

Reborn nodded and made a call, then turned his attention back to them.

Tsuna proceeded to—with his family’s help—explain what fresh hell they were in. “Verde has been having a field day with all the stuff we’ve been sending him to reverse engineer and make plans for.”

“Radiation poisoning?” Reborn said with a sick look, having latched onto that aspect of things. “How the fuck do you heal radiation poisoning?”

“You better believe we’re gonna learn,” Ken said.

“I think I’m the only one truly at risk,” he said, “not that that makes it any better.”

Sin scowled. “Sure, our materialized bodies _might_ not be affected, but…”

Tsuna shrugged. “It is what it is. Verde should come through. Then we’d have an endless supply of RadAway on hand while you two are figuring out how to get a handle on it. I’m not exactly keen on the idea of pumping myself full of RadAway on a regular basis, or Rad-X. Gods only know what sort of long-term effects that might have. The second a rad storm blows in I’ll take damage. And the game version of events has me trundling my ass into the Glowing Sea, at Ground Zero. It’s a fucking wasteland of fallout, with twinkling nuclear motes hanging in the air as decorations.”

“Well hopefully the Great Shuffler has the patience to let us get this shit worked out,” Hayato said, “and doesn’t push us to plow on ahead too early.”

They were interrupted by a knock at Reborn’s door, so Tsuna glossed his window over to hide it. Reborn took delivery of the goods and shooed the minion off, so Tsuna unglossed the window and quickly shifted everything over. Ken and Chikusa took charge of it all from that point.

“What would you like as a return favor?”

“One of those antique guns,” Reborn said promptly.

“Sure.” He laughed as he shifted one from storage onto Reborn’s desk. The value of it far exceeded the cost of the groceries, but that was hardly a concern.

“So now you go get to build a settlement for a people who’ve trekked a good thirty miles and keep getting routed.”

“Yeah. I mean, Sanctuary is nice enough, I suppose. And it’s not like a lot of greenery hasn’t come back. Thankfully none of it is sentient and out to eat everyone. We’ll set them up with a decent place to live, protections, hydroponics, purified water… Garvey will no doubt attempt to rope me into this whole Minutemen thing and to take over as General.” He rolled his eyes.

“You can’t even shoot,” Reborn protested.

“I’m learning!” he replied.

“He’s not doing too badly,” Sin said. “His intuition is helping. And he has that cheat,” he said, nodding at the Pip-Boy. “Assisted targeting.”

“At least I’m trying—again—to learn how to do more than just punch shit to death,” he said sulkily. “I suppose we should get back to it. There’s a few tons of crap to scrap on the way back and recycle.”

Reborn nodded. “Check back in when you get a minute. Keep me updated.”

“Of course. Ciao, Reborn.”

His family were working overtime, either stripping places, breaking things into smaller pieces, or running all of it through the Recyclers, but by the time they returned to Sanctuary they had quite a stockpile built up. And parts of the Commonwealth were looking pretty damn bare.

“Let’s start by finding the high point,” Chikusa said. “We meant to do that before. We can base off that.”

That meant heading to the back of the area and ripping down those homes, and breaking up the foundations. Tsuna found it odd it was all slab construction with what little he knew of cold areas, but what they were destroying all had rigid insulation at the sides and extended out horizontally from it quite a distance underground. He supposed he could annoy Verde about it, but tabled the idea and simply decided to do more of the same.

“These people aren’t going to need individual houses,” Mukuro said. “So let’s build a multi-room place with enough space for a couple in each, and have a sorta central location for a kitchen, dining, and trading?”

Tsuna nodded. “I still want the workbench house to be the crafting and warehouse area, but the house across from it can be scrapped once we have a structure up for these guys to sleep in that isn’t full of holes and sleeping bags. We should leave enough of a margin on the back side to put turrets, though.”

“Maybe a solar farm can go behind the warehouse?” Chikusa suggested.

A quick conversation with Verde about rigid foam insulation produced a fabrication plan, and then they were off. The resulting structure had bedrooms for ten, with a similar structure facing it across the road, with another crosswise at the end on the same side as the direction toward the Red Rocket, but that only had five rooms.

Each room was furnished with a bed, dresser, a lamp, and an electric heater. They imagined that most settlers would be spending the majority of their time either tending to things or relaxing at night in a communal dining area or bar, so why worry about anything fancy for a bedroom?

Sturges was informed—so he could let his people know—about the new accommodations, and that the sleeping bag situation would shortly be scrapped. Moisture condenser/purifiers had been placed outside each of the three buildings to service the people inside. That necessitated a quick lesson on how the things worked.

Predictably, Sturges brought up the issue of crops next, to which Tsuna nodded. He did give them all some very odd looks given that they were producing walls and concrete slabs and other things out of thin air, but he declined to question any of it, presumably not wishing to bite the hand that was “feeding” them.

“For now, there’s a supply of simple foods in each room, stuff that keeps well. We’re working out the food situation.”

The workbench house was scrapped next and the crafting area and warehouse plotted out, then built. The existing crafting stations (sans crude cooking station) were moved inside, along with Tsuna providing one each of Recycler and Fabricator.

“Anyone feel up to acquiring that fusion generator from the museum? We might have to give it a new core, but it’d make for a good back-up generator if the weather is shit for too long and the solar batteries drain.”

Ken, Chikusa, and Mukuro nodded and stepped out. They were back shortly thereafter and the generator placed at the back of the crafting room. A core was plugged in—several had been purchased from the Concord station, and they had found more along the way—and it was hooked up to the two power hogs.

Although, given that removing one did not seem to cut the power, perhaps those cores were being charged by the generators, instead of helping to power them?

Through a door at the back was the warehouse, with plenty of shelving and boxes for material cubes. Behind that was a structure holding all the solar batteries, also hooked into the fledgling power system, with solar panels on the roof of all three of the buildings. Hopefully these folks wouldn’t mind too much having to get up there when it snowed to clear them off. To that end there was a catwalk around the roof edge and a metal staircase leading up to provide access.

He assumed it still snowed, anyway. Despite having game aspects to the whole situation, he rather doubted that nuclear fallout had completely changed weather patterns and altered the axial tilt of the planet. Seasons should still be a thing, right? Lines were run across over to the housing structures and the heaters hooked in, complete with switches.

“Communal kitchen next? Crops on the roof?” Xeul said.

“I’m thinking a greenhouse situation up there, so we can still have the angled roof,” Hayato said.

Tsuna nodded. “Right, let’s get to it.” Though he did wander over to Sturges and ask who amongst them could even cook.

“Uh, Jun ain’t too bad at it.”

“Okay, awesome,” he said, then trundled off. The house across from the workbench—what used to be Nate and Nora’s home—was ruthlessly ripped down and replaced with a kitchen/bar/dining area (with its own water purifier), with stairs up to access what would be a greenhouse/hydroponics area.

Codsworth got a bit flustered over it when he saw them demolishing the place, but floated off to mope elsewhere. Poor thing no longer had his hedges to maintain.

“Um…”

“We picked up some of the local excuse for crops while we getting that generator,” Mukuro said. “Hopefully they’ll respond well to a hydroponics system. We’re also going to need a temperature control system in here.”

Tsuna sighed and got to work following Verde’s instructions on how to set the system up. Once they were done he checked in with Sturges to find a volunteer to learn how the damn thing worked, and got to give Mama Murphy a lesson.

“Sanctuary. I knew you’d join us here, kid. Your energy is tied to this place.”

“I hope the colour of my energy is orange,” he said, remembering one of the game options.

Mama Murphy chuckled. “That’s good. Humor’s a good way to cope. ’Cause this world ain’t yours is it? I saw you leave that ice box. The Sight can help you, kid. It always has answers. Just gotta bring me some Jet, so I can see what it wants to tell you.”

“No,” he said. “You don’t need that stuff anymore.”

“Oh, not this again. Kid. Listen to me. I’m old. Even older than you’d think. If the chems are gonna kill me, then I say I’ve had a good run. We’d have never made it this far without the Sight. We need it. You need it. It’s a part of who I am.”

“The Sight isn’t worth killing yourself over. It doesn’t have to define your worth, who you are, or what you can contribute,” he said, aiding his words with his flames.

“All right, kid,” Mama Murphy said with a sigh and a heave of her shoulders. “You got me. If me hanging around for a little longer is worth that much to ya, then I’ll go clean. No more chems. No more Sight. Now explain to me about this contraption you’ve cooked up.”

Once that was out of the way, and Jun gently bullied into becoming a barkeep and cook, they took a break to relax.

Sturges wandered over to compliment their efforts and mention the tiny issue of defenses.

“Yep, we’re handling that next,” he said. If he had his way he’d be enclosing the entire settlement with walls, like the ones in the game’s Covenant. The radio they had salvaged from one of houses and placed on the bar counter was tuned into Diamond City radio, which reminded him they ought to be heading that way soon.

Walls would have to wait, but turrets could not. Garvey’s motley band could use some peace of mind. He didn’t even question how the IFF on them worked. That they did was good enough for him.

“For now, how about we attach some stands to the sides of the buildings and put turrets on those. So long as we cover the perimeter…”

They were getting ready to leave when Garvey ambled over looking like he wanted another favor.

“I’ve had word from a settlement asking for help. They’re still hopin’ there are Minutemen out there … somewhere. The only chance to start rebuilding the Minutemen is to show people that they can count on us when they need us. Trouble is, I’ve got my hands full here. Do you think you could go help out the settlement?”

“Sure. Where?” Never mind wondering how Garvey had gotten word, or how anyone knew where he was to solicit help.

“That’s fantastic.” The guy looked so damn relieved it was almost embarrassing. “The Minutemen could use more people like you. It’s over at Tenpines Bluff. It’s due east of here, past the satellite station. Sounded like the usual—raiders. You’ll have to get all the details when you talk to them.”

“All right, we’ll handle it. Hopefully you folk will be fine here.”

“You’ve done an amazing job,” Garvey said, glancing around. “Not quite sure how, but…”

“Let’s just say we’re different and leave it at that,” he said with a serene smile. “We’ll head on out, then.”

“Of course. Let me know how it goes.”

Tsuna waved and trundled off with his family. The second they were out of sight they stepped over to storage and took long, long showers.


	2. λ34: 02: Commonwealth

## λ34  
02: Commonwealth  
“More stairs? Who built this damn vault, a fitness instructor?”

The folks at Tenpines Bluff—all two of them—were skittish. While the man eyed them nervously, the woman came at them with her gun up and ready to shoot.

“What do you want? We don’t need any more trouble around here.”

“I was told you asked the Minutemen for help.”

“You’re with the Minutemen?” she said, lowering her gun. “I didn’t really think you fellas still existed.”

‘Then why…? And for fuck’s sake, woman, that lipstick really does nothing for you, unless you’re trying to advertise yourself as a whore!’

“We sent word with one of them passing traders, but honestly … I never expected anything to come of it. Most people don’t put much stock in the Minutemen these days, after Quincy. Bad business, that.”

Tsuna smiled serenely. “The help you needed…?” he prompted.

“Oh, yeah. I’m damn glad you’re here. There’s a raider gang, over at Corvega, been giving us trouble for weeks. Stealing food and supplies, threatening to kill us all if we don’t pony up. We can’t go against a gang like that.”

“Corvega is which way?”

She turned and pointed. “You can’t miss it once you get close enough. The sign is huge.”

“Right, we’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, friend. If you folks are for real this time, it’ll be a welcome change for the better.”

Tsuna was distracted when an Eyebot nosed in to say, “Are you looking for a new career in science? Cambridge Polymer Labs is now hiring for a variety of positions! Apply today!”

His Pip-Boy blurped at him and a check of the map showed a marker for the place. “Convenient,” he muttered.

“How so?”

The woman had wandered off to do some gardening so he said, “Aside from being filled with ghouls? More decontamination arches, nuclear material, glass… Something to keep in mind. It can wait, though.”

They passed into Lexington on their way to Corvega. Tsuna noted the expected Super-Duper Mart and resolved to loot it later, then paused when a behemoth stomped into view. “Ooo, hello,” he murmured.

“What … is that?” Sin asked.

“A behemoth. At least ten times the size of a super mutant, and even less smart. They’re kind of like the bag ladies of mutated humans. Note the shopping trolley on its back.”

His family members blinked.

“We can either avoid it or kill it,” he said with a shrug. “They’re hostile, of course, like to throw things at you. There are probably ghouls lurking around here, too, so be on your guard. I’m just going to assume that things from the game are mostly true here, so…”

Everyone nodded, and Sin took careful aim at the thing, then fired.

That just pissed it off.

“Huh. Shot through the brain doesn’t work on these,” Sin muttered, then took out its knee instead, causing it to crash to the ground.

“I believe the term we’re looking for here is bullet sponge,” he said helpfully. “And I have no idea how thick their skulls are, so unless you’re using explosive rounds…”

Sin scoffed and unloaded on it, eventually bringing it down. Of course, that attracted the attention of both raiders and ghouls, which started a fight between those two groups, with Sin picking them both off from cover.

“There should be a ‘secret’ entrance to the factory, through some pipes at the bottom. If we go up the expected way there’ll be a fair number of raiders to shoot. In the game, you could just take out the gang leader and that part of the quest completed, but…”

“So we take your way, then clean up after on the way out,” Xeul suggested. “And loot the place to the bedrock.”

“Sure. This way.”

“Interesting how many gangs seem to have their eye on Mama Murphy,” Hayato commented as they started stripping the place bare, shoveling all of it straight into Sin’s storage for the time being. “Maybe we should add more defenses at Sanctuary, just in case.”

“Assuming this goes the usual way, I’ll get a notification if Sanctuary is attacked, and we can just step on over. I’m not going to worry about it otherwise. There’s a number of terminals in the game with notes about her. They all wanted her Sight. None of them succeeded.

“I’m going to step over to Tenpines briefly to let them know we succeeded, then come back to help. Afterward we’ll need to at least put up defenses at Tenpines. Maybe later we can build them a nice place, but I’m not feeling all that charitable at the moment. I’d rather get on with the main quest so we can put it behind us.”

Daemon latched on to him in an unmistakable demand, so Tsuna shifted his brother along with him, to just out of sight of the settlement, then walked the remainder of the way to speak to what’s-her-face.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“You find those raiders?”

“Yes, they’re history. My family is stripping the place bare for scrap as we speak.”

“Well, you helped us, so it’d be pretty ungrateful of us to turn our backs on other folks. If we want things to get better, we’ve got to start helping each other. You can count on us if you need help down the line. Thanks again, friend. And feel free to use the workbench over there.”

Tsuna nodded and set about, with Daemon’s help, producing turrets seemingly out of thin air, plus power for them, and then wandered off again to rejoin his family.

His quest log told him to go inform Garvey, but he had no plans to bother with that anytime soon. If he did he’d be saddled with three more settlement quests before he could blink.

Stripping Corvega took several days of hard labor, so after an evening of relaxation they stepped over to the Concord subway and grabbed a ride to the Diamond City station. They exited on the outskirts, looking down the hill to the entrance of Fenway Park.

On the walk down he said, “It really got to me, in the game, the sheer amount of trash. But this is maddening. You’d think after two hundred years they’d have cobbled something together. Inside it’s even worse. Massive piles of garbage everywhere. They didn’t even throw it over the walls. It just sits there, stinking the place up.

“Oh, we need to take a slight detour,” he said, looking sideways down a street toward where Hardware Town should be. “Might as well take care of a miscellaneous quest. And if it doesn’t exist, it’s still scrap.”

When looked at questioningly he added, “They claim there’s only one place to get the exact shade of green paint necessary for the wall inside. Might as well pick some up on the way. More of the usual. Raider types, loot, and some paint to be mixed.”

With that out of the way they continued on to Diamond City, where Piper was arguing over an intercom with someone inside.

“I’m sorry, but Mayor McDonough’s really steamed, Piper. Sayin’ that article you wrote was all lies. The whole city’s in a tizzy.”

Piper growled in frustration. “You open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan! I live here. You can’t just lock me out!” She heaved a sigh, then noticed them. “You,” she stage-whispered. “You want into Diamond City, right?”

Tsuna nodded.

“Play along,” she stage-whispered, then activated the intercom. “Wha-what’s that? You said you’re a trader up from Quincy? You have enough supplies to keep the general store stocked for a whole month? Huh. You hear that, Danny? You gonna open the gate and let us in or are you gonna be the one talkin’ to crazy Myrna about losin’ out on all the supply?”

Danny heaved a sigh of his own over the speaker. “Geez, all right. No need to make it personal, Piper. Give me a minute.”

“Better head inside quick before ol’ Danny catches on to the bluff,” Piper said sotto voce as the massive green gate covering the entrance kicked into motion and started to rise. “Another great day in Diamond City,” she said before she pivoted on one heel and strolled in.

A man was there—the aforementioned Mayor McDonough. “Piper! Who let you back inside? I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut!” he blustered as Tsuna was helpfully informed that he had completed: go to diamond city and had to now find information about the area.

“You devious, rabble-rousing slanderer! The level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I’ll have that printer scrapped for parts.”

“Ooooh, that a statement, Mr McDonough? ‘Tyrant mayor shuts down the press.’ ” Piper was very expressive with her hands and body language. “Why don’t we ask the newcomer? You support the news? ’Cause the mayor’s threatened to throw free speech in the dumpster.”

“ ‘Our liberty depends on the freedom of the press, and that cannot be limited without being lost,’ ” he quoted. “Thomas Jefferson.”

McDonough smarmed it up like most politicians. “Oh, I didn’t mean to bring you into this argument, sir. No. No, no… You look like Diamond City material. Welcome to the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth. Safe. Happy. A fine place to come, spend your money, settle down.”

I feel like he’s trying to sell us a time share.

“Don’t let this muckraker here tell you otherwise, all right?”

“This hasn’t been the friendliest welcome,” Tsuna commented.

“He’s got you there, McDonough. Guess not everyone gets won over by that shark smile of yours.”

McDonough cleared his throat. “Now, was there anything in particular you came to our city for?”

“Just looking for something.”

“Oh? What is it you’re looking for?”

“Who would I talk to about finding a missing person?”

“Well, whatever you do,” Piper said, “don’t bother going to Diamond City Security for help.”

“Don’t listen to her. While I am afraid that our security team can’t follow every case that comes through, I’m confident that you can find help here. Diamond City has every conceivable service known to man. One of our great citizens can surely find the time to help you.”

Tsuna smiled serenely and pushed Mist at the guy. “A mayor of a great city must know everyone. Who can help me?”

“Well, uh, there is … uh, one private citizen,” McDonough said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Nick Valentine. A detective of sorts, who specializes in tracking people down. Usually for debts or whatnot. Now, I have to get going. I’m sorry Diamond City Security doesn’t have time to help, but I’m sure Mr Valentine charges a reasonable fee.”

“This is ridiculous!” Piper said. “I want the truth, McDonough! What’s the real reason security always shrivels away when talk of missing persons comes up?”

“I’ve had enough of this, Piper. From now on, consider you and that little sister of yours on notice.”

“Yeah, keep talking, McDonough. That’s all you’re good for,” called at his retreating back. “So, it’s a missing person you’re after, but you don’t say who or why they matter to you. Why don’t you come by my office later? I think maybe I can help you out … after I get some answers.”

She strolled off toward the gate McDonough had passed through as Tsuna got yet another quest notification, this time for story of the century, with a note to go to piper’s office. Following on the heels of that he saw go to valentine detective agency.

Piper’s place, Publick Occurrences, was just to the left at the bottom of the stairs. He paused to take in the sights, the piles of garbage, the utter ruination of what was once a baseball stadium, and waited for his family to set aside their fastidiousness once again so they could head down and talk to Piper before heading off to the agency.

“I am fucking stunned,” Hayato said. “Even after you warned us, this…”

“Is a stinking shitpile,” Ken finished.

“I guess … when you’re concerned about making sure you have a place to sleep, food, and defenses, it’s a minor thing to worry about garbage. Then you get used to the smell and stop caring. As much as I want to clean the place up, if they want to live in filth…”

“Let’s go talk to the reporter chick,” Hayato said. “Maybe it won’t smell as bad inside.”

“I’m not holding out hope,” he said as he started down.

“Glad you stopped by,” Piper said as they entered her domain. “You holdin’ up, Blue?”

Tsuna relied on his memory of the game and said, “My favorite ballpark’s become a shantytown. Today’s been exceptional.”

“Interesting you mentioning that, seeing as you’re from a vault. Yeah, you’re not wearing the blue jumpsuit right now, but the Pip-Boy and that ‘fish out of water’ look? Dead giveaways. So here’s the deal. I want an interview. Your life story in print. I think it’s time Diamond City had a little outside perspective on the Commonwealth. You do that, and uh… I’ll tell you what. I’ll come with you. Watch your back while you get used to the world above ground.”

“An interview? Sure, why not.”

“Good. Let’s get down to business. So, I know you’re from a vault. How would you describe your time on the inside?”

“Frozen,” he said. “I didn’t spend much subjective time in the vault.”

“Wa-wait. They boxed you up in a fridge? The whole time? Are you saying you were alive before the War?”

“Yes, I’m over two hundred years old.” How old, exactly, even he had lost track of.

“Oh my god,” Piper crowed. “ ‘The Man Out of Time.’ …So, you’ve seen the Commonwealth… Diamond City. How does it compare to your old life?”

Tsuna leaned on his memory again. “Honestly, seeing everyone surviving out here? Rebuilding the world? It gives me hope.”

“That’s … surprisingly inspired, Blue. We’re definitely quoting that. Now, the big question. Why come to Diamond City?”

“A baby boy. He was kidnapped. I just want to know what happened. And why.”

“A missing child,” Piper said and sighed. “As heartbreaking today as it ever was. Tell me, do you suspect the Institute’s involved?”

“The Institute? Who are they?”

“That, Blue, is the biggest mystery in the Commonwealth. No one really knows who or where they are, but their handiwork is all over. Synths. Synthetic people. Sent from their labs to do the Institute’s dirty work. Sometimes they even replace a person with a synth double. A little covert agent no one would ever suspect. Now, not everything that goes wrong has the Institute behind it, but there’s always a chance. That’s why I’m asking.”

“I only saw two people, but it’s certainly possible. I don’t know.”

“No one ever does. That’s what makes them so scary. For the last part of our interview, I’d like to do something different. I want you to make a statement to Diamond City directly. The threat of kidnapping is all but ignored in the Commonwealth. Everyone wants to pretend it just doesn’t happen. What would you say to someone out there who’s lost a loved one, but might be too scared or too numb to the world to look for them?”

“No matter how much you want to give up … don’t. You have to have hope that you’ll see them again. Or at least … that you’ll know the truth.”

“A strong note to end on, Blue. Thanks. That’s everything. It’s gonna take some time to put this all together, but I think your story is gonna give Diamond City plenty to talk about. Anyway, I agreed to come with you, right? Watch your back? Just say the word if you’re interested. I can’t wait to see where this story goes next.”

“We’re going to go check in at Valentine’s, but I’ll keep the offer in mind. Have fun writing that article,” he said, then nodded and exited, back into the stench, but not before a copy of the paper was shoved at him.

Outside he took a moment to read it.

> Noodles. We all eat them. We all love them. And Diamond City’s Power Noodles has supplied this sustenance for the past fifteen years. From the stilted mechanical cadence of Takahashi’s programmed Japanese, to the fragrant steam that wafts from each bowl, to the scalding tang of each delicious mouthful—the ordering and eating of noodles is but one of many shared human experiences. Or is it?
> 
> I was struck by this very question as I sat at the counter of Power Noodles last Wednesday night, just after 5.00pm, enjoying a dinner I had so many times before. That’s when I noticed our very own Mayor McDonough sidle up to a stool, and engage in the very same ritual. Right hand extending. Mouth opening. Teeth chewing. Yes, eating noodles. The shared experience of almost every Diamond City resident.
> 
> So it must have also seemed to the residents of Diamond City nearly sixty years ago, on an uncharacteristically warm May evening in 2229, as they sat around this very same counter. But that was before the days of Takahashi and his noodles, when the bar served not noodles, but ice cold Nuka-Colas, frothy beers, and stiff shots of whiskey. The barman’s name was Henry, and that night, he facilitated the shared human experiences of drinking, smoking, talking, and laughing. That is, until tragedy struck.
> 
> There aren’t many among us who are even old enough to remember that evening—although some of the city’s ghoul residents certainly could have, had they not been forcibly removed, thanks to Mayor McDonough’s anti-ghoul decree of 2282. But there is one person among us who does remember, distinctly, the events of that evening: respected matriarch Eustace Hawthorne, who recounted her story in a Publick Occurrences exclusive interview.
> 
> “Oh, I was there all right. Sitting right at the bar, sure as you’re sitting in front of me now. Twenty-two years old or so, and just looking to have a good time. I was safe behind the Wall—we all were—so what was the harm? And let me tell you, that Mr Carter made it easy. He came into town earlier that day, said he was from out west somewhere. It didn’t really matter. What did matter was his smile, and his laugh, and the way he’d make everyone feel at ease. That night, at the bar, we all just sort of crowded around him. Everyone wanted to exchange a word, or hear about the state of the Commonwealth. And Mr Carter, he was all too happy to oblige. It was just so wonderful. Until it wasn’t.”
> 
> Eustace continued her account of that evening, and the moment when things turned sinister, and the truth about Mr Carter was revealed.
> 
> “We’d been drinking, and carrying on, must have been three hours. Mr Carter had four or five drinks in that time. He seemed a bit drunk, I guess, like the rest of us. Then something just sort of happened. He was smiling, but the smile sort of went from his face, all in an instant. And then his cheek started twitching, kind of funny. And I remember watching him, clear as if it happened just yesterday. He reached inside his coat, took out a revolver, and then ‘Blam!’—he shot Henry, the barman, right in the head. Didn’t hesitate, didn’t show any emotion—Mr Carter killed Henry as casually as if he were paying him for a drink. But his cheek never did stop twitching. Let me tell you, all Hell broke loose after that.”
> 
> What Eustace is describing is, of course, the infamous event known as the “Broken Mask”, when the people of the Commonwealth learned for the first time that the Institute, the shadowy scientific organization responsible for the creation of combat androids, had actually succeeded in creating a model so advanced, it could effortlessly infiltrate human society. Unbeknownst to the people of Diamond City, the Institute had somehow evolved their androids into true synthetic humans. Synths.
> 
> “After he shot Henry, that Mr Carter shot three or four other people, too. Like I said, all Hell broke loose. The guards came running, they opened fire, and Mr Carter kept shooting, and throwing people around left and right. Finally, those guards put him down. Seemed like they had killed a man who flipped his lid. Gone crazy. And he lay there like a dead crazy man, sure enough. God, it was horrible. But then we saw the plastic and the metal—this was one of them early synths, you see—and we realized it wasn’t a man at all. It was then we all knew. The Institute wasn’t just ‘out there’. The Institute was everywhere now. Among us.”
> 
> It was never determined precisely why the synth known as Mr Carter went on his killing spree. Some suggested he had somehow been remotely controlled by the Institute, who wanted to test his combat effectiveness. Still others felt he had simply malfunctioned (a hypothesis supported by the twitching cheek), and was never meant to kill anyone. But at that time, the “why” hardly seemed important. What mattered was that the humans of the Commonwealth had been truly infiltrated by an organization whose intentions and motives were, and still are, a complete mystery—using a model of a synth even less advanced than the ones the Institute has in service today.
> 
> Which brings us to noodles.
> 
> Specifically, the noodles consumed by Mayor McDonough last Wednesday night, in the same spot that Mr Carter the synth went haywire, and mercilessly killed several people—after spending hours sharing an experience the people of Diamond City assumed was reserved for members of the human race. They were wrong.
> 
> Are we?  
> 

He handed it off for the others to peruse at their leisure, and continued on toward Valentine’s. There were two men in the back “alley”, one of them doing some kind of maintenance, while the other looked on.

“Sometimes you gotta wonder. Does anyone fight back? Institute has to have enemies, right?”

“What? You mean the Railroad? That’s a fairy tale, man. They don’t exist.”

“Nah, I heard it from my cousin. He knows a guy that works for ’em. They got a code phrase and everything. ‘Follow the Freedom Trail.’ ”

“The hell is that supposed to mean? You’re full of it, and that kind of talk is gonna get you snatched up by the synths.”

Oh, look. Another quest just started, he wrote. road to freedom.

As they continued on one of them added, “Newcomer, huh? Talk to Abbot at the Wall, if you want a history lesson,” which started another quest.

Past the sign for Valentine’s the “alley” opened up to reveal a whole lot of crops, the trailer housing Diamond City Radio, who was presumably Abbot painting the back wall, and McDonough giving a speech from a makeshift dais.

“First, is the Great Green Guardian behind me. The Wall. Our protector and our savior from the filth of the outside.”

Samsara collectively scoffed.

“And second, is our faith and trust in each other. The faith and trust that has given us prosperity, security, and education for every citizen. And while the paper might point their fingers at synths and other ghost stories to drive us apart, we will not betray this sacred trust. Now, I want everyone to hear these next words very carefully. 

“I. Am not. A synth. I am the same flesh and blood boy who grew up on these streets. Who was born in a shack just down the waterfront to Martha and Patrick McDonough. And I will not abandon my city due to the heinous allegations of the press. God bless this city. God bless the Wall!”

“He’s so full of shit,” one of the listening residents said quietly.

Tsuna headed over to the painter and said, “Working hard?”

“Don’t touch the paint,” was the response.

“Not about to.”

“Good. The Wall keeps out the bad guys, so I appreciate you not messin’ her up none. Thinkin’ you need a little education. Maybe a bit of community service. What do you say?”

“I’m going to make a wild guess and say you’d like more paint for the Wall,” he replied.

“Well, yes… This paint I’m using, there’s only one place left in the whole Commonwealth you can get it.”

“Hardware Town?” he innocently guessed.

“Hardware Town,” Abbot confirmed. “Bring back a can of paint, and it’ll be one hundred caps in your pocket. How does that sound?”

It sounds like not education. He produced the bucket of green paint they’d mixed earlier. “We stopped in there looking for scrap on the way into town, noticed the paint mixer.”

“Now that’s damn fine news. Why don’t you go ahead and paint the first stroke? Let’s see how the shade matches up.”

Tsuna obligingly slapped a bit of green paint on the Wall and turned back to the old man.

“That’s a good shade of green. The Wall sure seems happy about it.”

And in a century, a cult will have arisen venerating the Great Green Wall, one of his family members commented snidely.

“That can you brought should be enough for a good coat or two. That’ll have to do for now. Here’s your payment and a little bonus for getting the right shade of green. Don’t do anything with it I wouldn’t do.” Two hundred caps found their way into his hand, which was quite a bonus considering the original offer.

With that handled, it was time to go “learn” that Valentine was missing.

The interior of Valentine Detective Agency was as sad a place as any other Commonwealth dwelling. The woman there was futzing around with a box of paperwork. “His ties?” she murmured, then sighed. “Oh, Nick.”

“Something wrong?” he asked, as she clearly had not heard the door squeak open.

“Another stray coming in from the rain. ’Fraid you’re too late. Office is closed.”

“Wait. Who are you?” he asked with pretended cluelessness. “You the detective?”

“Me? No, I’m Nick’s secretary. Handle his appointments, his papers, that sort of thing. Well, that’s what I used to do anyway, but now Nick’s disappeared, and I can’t keep a detective agency open without a detective.”

“Do you have any idea where I might look for him?”

“He disappeared working a case. Skinny Malone’s gang had kidnapped a young woman, and he tracked them down to their hideout in Park Street Station. There’s an old vault down there they use as a base. I told Nick he was walking into a trap, but he just smiled and walked out the door like he always does.”

“Who’s this Skinny Malone character?”

“I don’t know much about him, but he’s from Goodneighbor, and that means he’s in the well-pressed suits and machine guns school of thuggery.”

Tsuna shrugged. “I’ll find him,” he said as his Pip-Boy blurped at him again. He assumed it was updating his map.

“Thank you,” she said. “Nick should be easy to spot. He’s always wearing that old hat and trench coat getup. Please, hurry!”

On the way to Park Street Station they wandered by the Dartmouth Professional Building and paused to investigate. One door led into a ruined interior (but loot was loot), while the other door down in the absurdly small lobby led straight to the roof … somehow.

There was a workbench embedded in part of the trim that protected people from accidentally stepping off the edge to their deaths, which made him pause again. “Right, mark this place in memory, darlings. We’ll come back to it.”

Boston Common, where Park Street Station was located, was also home to Swan, a super mutant, which meant it took a lot of balls to set up shop there. Maybe Skinny Malone’s people were super good at sneaking. It was also where the aforementioned Freedom Trail started, and indeed, the first seal there had a number seven painted on it in red, and the letter A was bracketed with more of the same.

He ignored both the super mutant and the tour guide Protectron waiting to pounce on people and announced, “Lunch time. Let’s retreat for the moment.”

Once in storage they all showered off the stink of the Commonwealth, then Tsuna got on to important business like cooking for his family. “So, thoughts so far?”

“I seriously wanna build something on that roof and install a zip line down into Diamond City,” Ken said.

Tsuna laughed and nodded. “That sounds like fun.”

“What are we walking into?” Daemon asked.

“Mobsters,” he said as he worked. “The Triggermen are mostly all non-feral ghouls, though there are a few normals. Skinny Malone—who is anything but skinny—is there with his moll, Darla, who can be convinced to leave the guy and go back home, so the only people who generally die are the people with no names.

“We’ll have to go down through the subway, through the excavated section, into the vault, and then drop down a couple of levels. The entrance is locked up tight in the game with an unpickable lock—probably so you can’t break quest progression. Either way, a short distance in we’ll find Valentine, locked up in an office.

“Once we get him we can proceed on through the vault, shooting a lot of mobsters, and eventually work our way around to the other side of that locked door. Malone and Darla will be there, a few thugs, and we talk our way out of this, then bail out the sewer entrance. We go back to Diamond City with Valentine and have an interview about our case.”

“So nothing special in the end.”

“Not really,” he said, then started looking around for plates.

Ken hopped up to assist and they were shortly enjoying a nice lunch of cheeseburgers and chips.

“Valentine himself is kind of like the hard-boiled detective type, except not. He’s a sweetheart, and really kind of messed up in the head.”

“I would be too if I woke up one day with a set of memories that didn’t come close to matching the body I was in,” Xeul commented before he bit into his burger.

He nodded. “He’s good for exposition, though, and acting as a local guide of sorts. I mean, he’ll offer to come along on this quest to find out what happened to the child. The fact that I’m even getting quest messages probably means I should play along rather than just shortcut certain aspects.”

“What exactly do Gen-2 synths look like?” Sin asked.

“Humanoid, mostly normal voice—unlike the Gen-1s—but their ‘skin’ is clearly fake. I mean, it’s sections of ‘skin’ pieced together over the mechanical frame, and it’s white rather than anything in the normal range of skintones. The eyebrows are more of a suggestion than a reality, and the eyes are clearly not human. Valentine in the game has a fair amount of damage to him. Parts of the ‘skin’ around his neck were torn away, showing what’s underneath, and one of his hands, as well. He’s a very weird mixture of robot and human.”

“How long?”

“An hour, maybe two?” he hazarded. “We’ll be back in Diamond City before nightfall, certainly. We don’t _need_ him along, but I’m fond of the character and I’d like to see his story resolved.”

“Which begs the question of whether we let him in on certain things,” Daemon said.

Tsuna chewed thoughtfully. “The game version would be good for it, but I’ll wait to form a proper opinion on that until after we’ve met him here. I don’t know how my intuition would react to an android with the memories of a real human.”

“It would certainly simplify certain things if we choose to keep him as a local guide,” Mukuro said. “Better him than Piper, I imagine.”

“She is a reporter. She’d probably go bugnuts trying to figure us out if we showed anything out of the ordinary. That or decide we’re secretly working for this Institute place,” Chikusa said.

Tsuna nodded. “We could continue to sleep in comfort and eat real food, not that irradiated mess available to the common folk. And shower.”

Ken finished up and ferried his plate to the sink, which started a general progression of ferrying and cleaning, and shortly thereafter they were back outside Park Street Station and entering.

“I’m telling ya, joining Skinny Malone’s crew was the best decision we’ve ever made,” they could hear a Triggerman say as they crept down the stairway into the subway proper. “Look at this place.”

Tsuna shook his head sadly.

“I still say Malone’s weak. We caught that detective snooping around, and what does he do? Locks him up. Like he ain’t got the balls to just kill him.”

“Well, don’t let his new girl hear that. She’ll start swingin’ that bat of hers at your face until there ain’t no face left.”

Tsuna got up to the doorframe and panned around, spotting a man leaning against one of the walls. A quick lean on his intuition and a squeeze of the trigger and the man was dead. The silencer Sin had put on his gun was helpful, but the effects rather negated when the man in question both grunted as he died, and hit the ground noisily.

“What the…?”

Another Triggerman poked his head out around a corner and promptly had a bullet shot through it courtesy of Sin. Tsuna could hear several more moving around back there. A door next to where the first man had been standing popped open and someone popped out, only to die a quick death.

“He’s here for the detective. Ice him!” Whoever it was stupidly popped out the same door and ended up just as dead.

“Not very bright, are they,” Hayato commented.

“I don’t sense anyone else,” Sin said after sending out a pulse of flames. “Let’s loot and move on.”

“So these are ghouls,” Mukuro said. “I’m honestly not sure I could stand it.”

Tsuna gave a slight shudder and nodded.

Shortly thereafter they were headed down the hall and down a set of stairs to the platform area. More Triggermen were there, and were just as easily dispatched. After a rinse and repeat they moved on to the tunnels, which led deeper underground.

What the hell is that blue glow?

Nuka-Cola Quantum.

Up ahead was excavation equipment and more Triggermen to remove from the gene pool (though he assumed that ghouls were sterile), plus the entrance to Vault 114. “That door there,” he said, pointing off to the side, “is where we’ll leave through. It leads to a ladder up to the surface. Amusingly enough, in the game, that manhole cover doesn’t exist until after you’ve reached this point.”

The vault door was closed, so he had to use his Pip-Boy to open it up, which meant anyone inside would know something was up. Considering that not one Triggerman so far had a Pip-Boy, he had to wonder if they banged on the door when they wanted entrance, so that someone inside could activate the thing.

“God damn it. I hate it when they open the door. Why’s that thing so loud?” a defect complained. “Hello? That you, Skinny? Darla?” He wandered out from behind a half-demolished pillar, setting himself up for a quick death.

A terminal in a side room greeted them with:

> #### Property of Vault-Tec  
>  Vault 114 Personnel  
>  CONFIDENTIAL CONFIDENTIAL CONFIDENTIAL  
>  VAULT-TEC CLEARANCE SL-4 REQUIRED  
>  EMPLOYEE EYES ONLY | VIOLATION VTP-01041  
>    
>  [Welcome, Employees]  
>  [PRIVATE: Science Staff Only]

Under the first was:

> #### Greetings!  
>    
>  After many months of preliminary construction, we are pleased to welcome members of the Technical and Scientific Staff to the newest addition to the Vault-Tec Family: Vault 114!  
>    
>  Like you, we are excited to get started on our latest endeavor, but we are not quite ready to open that great big gear door to our new residents yet. As you've probably noticed, we've contracted outside Vault-Tec for construction on this one, since it is utilizing a unique space. By repurposing the former Park Street Subway station, we will be seeing a decrease in building costs, as well as a shorter timeline for construction. This fits perfectly with the vault's observational studies, which will be revealed in a future memorandum.  
>    
>  However, because of this, we will be seeing a lot of civilian traffic until construction is fully completed. It is up to you to help maintain the security of Vault 114 and its experiment from prying eyes without proper clearance. "Loose lips sink ships," of course. They also result in immediate termination and possible criminal investigations.  
>    
>  Welcome, once again!  
>    
>  Vault-Tec Management

Under the second was:

> #### WARNING: This memorandum is meant for members of the Vault 114 Science Division only, or those with appropriate security clearance levels (SL-4+). All others must exit this terminal immediately and report your infraction to the overseer or a member of Vault-Tec Security. Thank you.  
>    
>  =Social Science Division=  
>    
>  As mentioned in your briefing, Vault 114 will be hosting high-ranking members of local and state government, local luminaries, business people, and their families. Future members are aware that they will be cohabitating solely with others of Boston's upper class.  
>    
>  However, the "luxury" aspect of this vault has been highly exaggerated to the future residents. Multiple families, chosen randomly, will live and sleep in single-room apartments, dining and bathing will be in shared quarters, and amenities will be minimal.  
>    
>  In addition, we are currently interviewing for the overseer position from many candidates. Our goal is to find someone with no supervisory or government experience, and hopefully with a strong anti-authority bias. Human Resources tells us that the interview process has vetted many viable candidates.  
>    
>  By taking away the luxury and authority these groups saw in surface life, we hope to study their reactions in stressful situations. As such, please do not undermine the new overseer's authority at all during the experiment, even (and especially) if it may cause physical discomfort, embarrassment, or harm to residents.  
>    
>  Thank you,  
>  Vault-Tec Management

“These Vault-Tec people are real princes,” Xeul said.

“Vault-Tec in the games was psychotic, and working hand-in-glove with the government, if that tells you anything. Precious few of their vaults were not some kind of experiment. One, Vault 69, was populated by a single man and ninety-nine women. Its counterpart, Vault 68, had a single woman and ninety-nine men. You can imagine how that must have gone. And those were some of kinder ones.

“One of the worst involved one of Vault-Tec’s top scientists, who put all the residents into suspended animation or cryo, then inserted them into a virtual reality. He used his power over everything to torture and kill them, then reset and do it all over again. When he’d get bored he’d change the simulation scenario.”

“Right…”

“There’re plenty as bad,” he said, then exited the room. Down an L-shaped stair was another room, and voices sounded from an open doorway to the left.

“So, I got a question. Why the hell would anyone build a vault out of a subway station? This place is like the opposite of airtight.”

“Because they weren’t plannin’ to use it, you moron. We used to pull this kind of con all the time back before the war. Got a bunch of union boys to work some construction job that would go nowhere. Keep everyone on the payroll.”

Whatever else might have been said was forever silenced when the two men had bullets plowed through their heads. Down the hall was another door which, when opened, revealed more construction. Industrial scaffolding and catwalks supported more Triggermen and led down to more of the vault. Along the way was a sign that read “Municipal Plutonium Well”, which was a bit startling and worrying.

Inside the next area was the drop Tsuna had been expecting, a service access of some kind, with the panel moved to the side to reveal it. Ken dropped a grenade down the hole in response to the sound of another defect and stepped back, then chuckled at the sound of a death grunt.

They dropped down, looted what was there, and headed through the door, down a hall, and to another door. Another short trek brought them to the atrium of the vault. Directly ahead and up one level was what Tsuna recognized as the Overseer’s window. A man was standing in front of it, looking inside.

“How you doing in there, Valentine? Feeling hungry? Want a snack?”

“Keep talking, meat head,” Valentine replied, causing Tsuna to wonder exactly who designed the place such that they could hear those two clearly from all the way across the atrium. “It’ll give Skinny Malone more time to think about how he’s going to bump you off.”

There’s a bit of Bogart in that voice.

“Don’t give me that crap, Valentine. You know nothin’. You got nothin’.”

“Really? I saw him writing your name down in that black book of his. ‘Lousy cheating card shark’ I think were his exact words. Then he struck the name across three times.”

The man visibly twitched. “Three strikes? In the black book? But I never… Oh no… I gotta smooth this over! Fast!”

Sin scoffed quietly and blew a hole through the guy’s head.

“Nicely done. Now let’s go rescue a detective.” He flitted off to the side where the staircase was and up, then rifled through the corpses clothing. There was a password in his pocket, which simplified opening the office door.

On approaching the window he could see Valentine inside, silhouetted and mysterious.

“Hey, you. I don’t know who you are, but we got three minutes before they realize muscles-for-brains ain’t comin’ back. Get this door open. You gotta hack that terminal to open up this door.”

A quick stop at the terminal took care of that and the door slid open in response. Valentine walked toward them, still silhouetted by the overhead light. “Gotta love the irony of the reverse ‘damsel in distress’ scenario. Question is, why did our hero risk life and limb for an old private eye?” Valentine asked as he produced a cigarette, then lit it and took a drag.

Why a Gen-2 synth would even smoke in the first place was a mystery, unless it was to conform to stereotypes, or the habits of the original, long-dead Nick Valentine. The burning tip cast a red glow to faintly illuminate the man’s face, which gave everything a vaguely demonic aura. The glowing yellow eyes just added to it.

“I need help finding someone, but it’s … complicated. I don’t know exactly where they could be, or how long they’ve been gone.”

“Well, I’ve done jobs with less. Somehow ‘nice and simple’ never makes it into the menu in my world. I’ve been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the missing daughter I came here to find wasn’t kidnapped. She’s Skinny Malone’s new flame, and she’s got a mean streak. Anyway, you got troubles, and I’m glad to help. But now ain’t the time. Let’s blow this joint. Then we’ll talk.”

In the background, his family was looting for all they were worth, making things disappear behind Valentine’s back.

“Malone’s crew here used to be small time, muscled out of the old neighborhood by bigger players. Until they found this place. Don’t know exactly what happened to the previous owners, but they’re not exactly around to charge rent. An empty vault. Perfect hideout.”

I like him. He’s delightfully sarcastic.

Valentine headed out and down the stairs, so Tsuna followed along. He headed for a door to the right of where they had come in and down another set of stairs. “Hold up! I hear some of them coming,” Valentine said lowly. “There they are. How do you want to play this?”

After looting some Nuka-Cola out of the machine there he edged around the door frame to see three thugs. Sin edged out along with him and sniped all three of them. Tsuna stood up and headed forward with Nick as his family started making shit disappear again behind them.

“Hard and loud, huh? Well, it gets the job done. Too bad for whoever cleans up the floors,” Valentine commented as they exited through the door at the far end and into a hallway. There were showers off to the left and toilets to the right, and another door at the end.

“This door’s on the fritz. Let me see if I can get it open,” Valentine said as he fiddled with the door mechanism. “Almost got it… There we are. Hell of a lot easier to do when the lock isn’t on the other side.”

Signs on the wall once the door opened showed arrows pointing left for Residential, Laundry, Cafeteria, Nursery, and Exit Zone. Stairs, again, this time leading up to another hallway and more Triggermen.

The room to the left, which they were forced to go through due to the hallway being blocked off, had a lot of bunkbeds in it.

I suppose we could repurpose all of this, too, either as is, or chopped up and recycled.

He shrugged as he followed Valentine through the door at the back corner. Down a hallway, into another bunk room, more dead Triggermen… A kitchen along the way provided quite a lot in the way of glass, plastic, and ceramics.

“More stairs?” Valentine complained on turning the corner. “Who built this damn vault, a fitness instructor?”

Down a hallway containing a nursery, a depot, and more residential was yet another staircase.

“Skinny Malone and the rest of his boys are waiting for us, somewhere. The name’s, uh, ironic, but don’t let that fool you. He’s dangerous,” Valentine informed them as they jogged up the stairs. “Another locked door. Shouldn’t be too hard. …Okay, I got it, but I hear big, fat footsteps on the other side. Once we step through this door, get ready for anything.”

Valentine headed through, and Tsuna checked with his family before stepping through as well.

“Nicky? What are you doin’? You come into my house, shoot up my guys. You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?”

Skinny Malone was there, machine gun in hand, sharp (and clean) black suit on, along with a pristine hat. His girl Darla stood by him, baseball bat at the ready, dressed in heels and sequins. Two thugs were behind them, guns up and jittery. Behind them was the vault door.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often.”

“Aw… Poor little Valentine,” she said, and Tsuna winced at the sound of her voice. It was just as bad as it was in the game. “Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? I’ll just run back home to daddy, shall I?”

“Should’ve left it alone, Nicky. This ain’t the old neighborhood. In this vault, I’m king of the castle. You hear me? And I ain’t lettin’ some private dick shut us down now that I finally got a good thing goin’!”

“I told you we should’ve just killed him, but then you had to get all sentimental!” Darla bitched. “All that stupid crap about the ‘old times’.”

“Darla, I’m handling this! Skinny Malone’s always got things under control!”

“Oh yeah?” she said. “Then what’s these guys doing here, huh? Valentine must have brought them here to rub us all out!”

What, he transmitted via radio signals to his secretary to find some mercenaries?

Tsuna gave her a serious look and pushed Mist at her. “Darla, listen to me. You have a home to go back to. You don’t want to throw your life away with these thugs.”

“I… I… You’re right!” she declared. “What am I doing? I’ve gotten all mixed up!”

“Darla? Wh-where are you goin’?”

“Home, Skinny! Where I should have been all this time. This is goodbye for us.” She lowered her bat and booked it toward the exit.

“Oh, come on, Nicky!” Malone bitched. “You cost me my men, now you and your friend cost me my girl?”

“My friend here just did you a favor, Skinny. You always did have bad taste in women. Now that she’s not around to feed that temper of yours, maybe you’ll see sense and let us walk? You still owe me for two weeks in the hole.”

“You smug, overconfident ass… Agh! All right, you get to the count of ten! I still see your face after that, I’m gunning all of you down!”

“We better get out of here. Fast,” Valentine said as Malone started counting.

Tsuna took off after a brow raise at Daemon and led the way to the exit. A quick climb up the ladder and a push on the manhole cover showed the dubious safety of the streets of Boston, a shabby little alley running behind various establishments.

“How’d you know to find me down in that old vault?” Valentine asked once he was up top.

“Your secretary mentioned you’d gone missing, and your last known destination.”

“She did? I should give her a raise. I want you to come to my office in Diamond City. Give me all the details. Besides, I think you’ve earned a chance to sit down and clear your head.”

He nodded. “Lead the way.”

“All right. Let’s move fast. Follow me.” Valentine took off at a jog down an even narrower alley, down a short side street, and onto the main thoroughfare. A sign for Shenley’s Oyster Bar was prominent to the left.

“Traveling in the Commonwealth as long as I have, you learn a few things. These old buildings and alleyways give you a lot of opportunities to hide if things get bad, but that goes both ways,” Valentine said. “Always keep your eyes out, and your head on a swivel. Things can go from calm to deadly in a heart beat.”

On the heels of that pronouncement came a pack of feral, mutated dogs, growling and snarling.

“Diamond City is as close to safe as you can get in these parts,” Valentine continued once the dogs were put down. “Security keeps the perimeter under control, but it’s always a struggle. Despite the mayor’s bragging, it really is the most secure settlement around, even if it comes with a few uptight guards.”

After a delightful run-in with some raiders they were skimming the side of Fenway Park and around to get to the entrance, and shortly thereafter they were entering Valentine Detective Agency.

“Ellie? Are you here?” Valentine called out.

“Nick!?” Ellie whipped out from the “bedroom” area and jerked to a stop. “Oh god, it’s really you!”

“Well, it’s hard to mistake this mug for anyone else,” Valentine quipped.

Ellie made a disgruntled noise. “You keep laughing at death, someday, death’s gonna laugh back.”

“Not as long as I got a few friends to back me up,” Valentine replied, giving him a glance.

“You saved Nick, this agency, and my job,” Ellie said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said sincerely. He liked Ellie.

“Here,” she said, producing a bunch of caps. “I know an amount wasn’t on the table when you went out to find him, but you deserve a reward. Plus a little something extra.” The little something extra was a worn fedora like Valentine’s and a similar trenchcoat. “You know, if you’re lookin’ for work, and don’t mind putting on the detective hat, Nick sure could use a new partner…”

“Whoa. One case at a time, Ellie. Our new friend needs our help, first,” Valentine objected as he took a seat at the desk. “All right. Let’s get down to business. Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

Tsuna was annoyed when a message flashed by instructing him to sit down. ‘Because I can’t fucking figure that out for myself?’ He took a seat in the grimy client chair. Insult was added to injury when completed: sit down flashed by.

“When you’re trying to find someone who’s gone missing, the devil is in the details,” Valentine said as Ellie took position behind him, clipboard and pen at the ready. “Tell me everything you can, no matter how … painful it might be.”

“We were in a vault when it happened. Vault 111. It was some kind of cryo facility.”

“You were on ice, huh? More importantly, you were underground. Sealed up. That’s a lot of obstacles to get through just to take one person. What else can you tell me?”

“There was a man and a woman. They didn’t say much, but I remember they called me ‘the backup’.”

“So we’re talking a small team. Professionals. The kind that know to keep their lips tight when they’re on the job. Not sure what ‘the backup’ means, though… Anything else you can remember?”

“The missing person in question is a baby boy. They kidnapped him. And I have no idea why.”

“A good question. Why an infant? Someone would be taking on all of his care, and a baby needs a lot of it. That confirms it. This isn’t a random kidnapping.” Valentine hummed before saying, “There’s a lot of groups in the Commonwealth that take people. Raiders, super mutants, the Gunners, and of course, there’s the Institute.”

“One was dressed like a mercenary, but the other was wearing some kind of hazmat suit, like they were scared of radiation damage. I’d bet on the Institute.”

“Well, they are the boogeyman of the Commonwealth. Something goes wrong, everyone blames them. Easy to see why. Those early model synths of theirs strip whole towns for parts, killing everything in their way. Then you got the newer models, good as human, that infiltrate cities and pull strings from the shadows. Worst of all, no one knows why they do it, what their plan is, or where they are. Not even me, and I’m a synth myself. A discarded prototype, anyway.”

Tsuna gave a slight shrug. “Either way, it’s done.”

“You’re right. This speculation is getting us off track. Let’s focus on what you saw. What did you say these kidnappers looked like?”

“The woman I couldn’t tell. The hazmat suit—maybe it was a clean room suit—covered everything. The man dressed like a mercenary. Balding, scar across his left eye—”

“Wait,” Valentine interrupted. “It couldn’t be… You didn’t hear the name ‘Kellogg’ at all, did you?”

Tsuna shook his head. “No names were ever spoken.”

Valentine hummed again. “Still, it’s way too big of a coincidence… Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?”

She consulted her clipboard, though why Tsuna couldn’t tell. Not unless she was psychic and had gathered the material in question in the short time it took for him to sit down. “The description matches. Balding. Scar. Reputation for dangerous mercenary work, but no one knows who his employer is.”

“And he bought a house here in town, right? And he had a kid with him, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, that’s right. The house in the abandoned West Stands. The boy with him was around ten years old.”

“Is he still in town?” he asked.

Valentine shook his head. “They both vanished a while back, if I’m remembering right, but that house is still there. Let’s you and I take a walk over to Kellogg’s last known address. See if we can snoop out where he went.”

Knowing what was coming he immediately said, “Hold that thought. We’re going to take a break first. How about we pick this up first thing in the morning?”

“Sure, sure. We’ll be right here.”

“Thank you. We’ll see you bright and early, then,” he said as he got up.

They stepped over to storage the second the door was closed behind them and trooped off to shower again, then assembled in the kitchen.

“So?” Daemon asked.

“I think I’m willing to risk it, but not certain. We’ll see how I feel when it comes up for real. Thoughts on dinner?”

“Stuffed chicken parm?” Hayato said hopefully.

When no one objected he said, “Sure,” then got up to start preparations.

“I take it the next part of this quest is long and involved?” Sin said as he jumped up to assist.

“Yeah. We go pick the lock on Kellogg’s door, find a secret room and some clues. Then we call in Dogmeat to track the scent and follow him over to Fort Hagen, pausing along the way multiple times for more clues and Dogmeat to refresh the scent he’s tracking, and fighting off various beasties.

“Fort Hagen itself is a mess, but there’s good loot in there, so that’s something. After a torturous trek through there and offing a troop of Gen-1 or Gen-2 synths, we get to Kellogg. Once he’s dead we can loot a password off him, a bunch of cybernetics—which includes part of his brain—and exit out up a lift. At that point, I’m sad to say, the Brotherhood of Steel arrives to further complicate things.”

He pocketed some chicken breasts and set them aside before washing his hands and checking on the sauce he’d pulled out of one of the freezers.

“Well, I can see why you’re fond of Valentine,” Mukuro said. “He has a certain charm. His appearance is a bit startling, though, I admit. He’s surprisingly expressive despite the limitations of his face.”

Tsuna nodded as he accepted the cheese mixture from Sin and stuffed the chicken breasts.

“So how did the original Valentine’s memories manage to make the jump to the synth version?” Daemon asked.

“Pre-war, Valentine was involved in a case against a guy named Eddie Winter. Mobster type. It became personal when Winter arranged for Valentine’s girl to be killed, and then it came out that Winter was working with the feds the whole time, so Valentine was left with a raging case of frustrated justice. He was sent for ‘counseling’ or something and while there a copy of his memories was taken. Somehow that ended up in the hands of the Institute, and when they were fucking around with their prototype they would copy in various lives, so to speak, to see what’d happen. Something like that.

“Pre-war Valentine was the last one they tried before this Valentine ended up on the outside. That is the subject of DLC for the game, how it happened, but I’ll assume for the moment it’s also true here. Valentine is of the opinion that they chucked him out like garbage. Not so crazy considering he woke up in trash.”

“Then it follows that his personal quest has something to do with Winter,” Chikusa opined.

“Yep. Once you gain enough affinity with Valentine he’ll ask for your help with that. He’s looking to gain closure, basically. Revenge, even, for the death of his girl.” He secured the edges of the chicken breasts with wooden picks, ran them through the egg bath, and dredged them in panko before placing them in a pan for baking.

“How the fuck that’d be possible,” Ken said, trailing off. “Unless…”

Tsuna nodded again.

“I’m thinking,” Xeul said slowly, “that we should split into two teams. Half of us on scrap duty, while the rest do this quest. There’s really no need for all of us to be along like ducklings aside from knowing a location to later loot it, and someone who goes along showing it in a window would suffice.”

“…I’m not against it,” he said as he closed up the oven and set a timer. “As useful as my knowledge is, there are bound to be things here that weren’t there, so some of you out and about looting places bare will likely stumble over places of interest. I would like one Mist with me, just in case. I already know Sin will insist on being with me.”

“You’re damn right,” Sin muttered.

His Mists had one of those silent conversations, then Daemon raised his hand briefly. “We can always trade off, and the scrap team can keep a window open on you anyway.”

Hayato, Chikusa, and Ken had their own silent conversation, then Chikusa raised a hand briefly.

“So that’s set. We can always shuffle things around later.” That having been decided, he moved on to preparing the vegetables to go along with the chicken.

After dinner and a few rounds of games he and Sin ambled off to their room for some alone time.

“I am displeased,” Sin said as they undressed. “And we should check in with Verde again soon, see if he’s figured out plans for that RadAway and his new toys.”

“I’m not too pleased myself, but at least we have the option to step away from the cesspool and eat food that isn’t mutated. I mean really, tatos? Mutfruit?” He shuddered.

Sin scowled and led him over to the bathroom. “Let’s soak,” he said as he started the water going.

One of their indulgences when planning and constructing the house in Tsuna’s storage was a massive soaking tub for the two of them. Sure, it had water jets, but they rarely used them.

“Why are you displeased, aside from the obvious?”

“It’s not like we can go out on a date in this godforsaken hellhole, now can we?” Sin growled. “It doesn’t even matter that any movies we went to see would be old hat, most likely, or the food in a restaurant sub-par. It’s the idea of it. Can’t have a fucking picnic when the mosquitoes are the size of dogs, the flies are bigger than my head and shoot projectiles at us, and the lizards have mutated into massive terrors.”

Tsuna blinked. “And it’s just not the same thing to fake it with illusions.”

Sin shook his head and tested the water temperature with one hand.

“So… We convert that rooftop to a little pleasure garden, enclose it in translucent walls, and block the access door, to use it as a private retreat of sorts?”

Some of Sin’s good humor returned at the idea. “And keep the zipline, presumably.”

Tsuna grinned. “Well, it does sound fun.”

“All right, tesoro,” Sin said, drawing him close. “Let’s do that. And then you and I can have a picnic soon.”

“Amongst other things,” he said suggestively.

“Yeah. Amongst other things.” Sin leaned in after a quick look at the water level.


	3. λ34: 03: Commonwealth

## λ34  
03: Commonwealth  
“Technically, the corpse was defiled already.”

The next morning Tsuna, Sin, Daemon, and Chikusa stepped out to a quiet spot and trundled back into Diamond City to meet up with Valentine. As a head nod to plausibility and sanity they were all wearing small packs to contain their supplies, no matter how much of a farce it was. On entering the door to the agency and seeing the two inhabitants he said, “Good morning. Ready to pick up where we left off?”

Valentine nodded and got up from his seat.

Ellie frowned slightly and said, “Security doesn’t really go to that part of town, but you should still be careful.”

“I always am,” Valentine assured her over his shoulder.

The access to the abandoned west stands was just a short walk from the agency, and Valentine took the opportunity to say, “I didn’t want Ellie to hear this, but I think you should know. Everything I dug up about Kellogg before his disappearance is bad news. He’s more than just a mercenary. He’s a professional. Quick, clean, thorough. Has no enemies, because they’re all dead… Except you. But nine to one odds says he’s our man. It’s more than just you identifying his distinguishing features. The MO is all him as well.”

They ended up at a dead-end that held a small, almost patio area, and a single door leading into one of those ubiquitous shacks.

“Here we are,” Valentine said. “Keep an eye out, will ya? Let’s see if I can get this open.”

While Valentine tried his hand at lockpicking, Tsuna was busy manifesting a temporary Bounding Box to keep their little corner of the Diamond City shithole uninteresting.

“That’s one heck of a lock… Got something to hide, Kellogg? Why don’t you give it a try?” Valentine invited.

Tsuna didn’t have to look to know that Sin had slipped over to work his magic. A second later a distinct click was heard, so he turned away from the view of the “city” and headed inside.

Valentine entered last, panned around the room, and said, “Let’s take a look around. Kellogg must have left something behind.”

He set to looting as he walked around the desk and up the rickety stairs to the “bedroom” area, grabbed everything not nailed down, then carefully walked back down. 

“Place seem small to you?” Valentine commented. “Figured a guy like Kellogg would think big…”

As expected, there was a switch hidden under the desk, visible as he came down the staircase, so he pressed it, then watched as a wall near the door swung back and up.

“Well… That’s one way to hide a room,” Valentine said before he stepped inside.

It wasn’t much, sort of a combined pantry, ammunition stash, and smoking room, but it did contain a fair amount of beer and cigars, which would form the basis of scents for Dogmeat to follow.

“Gwinnett Stout Beer… Forty-four caliber bullets… And cigars. San Francisco Sunlights. Interesting brand,” Valentine said. “Won’t lead us anywhere on its own, though.”

“What about Dogmeat? Maybe he could pick up the scent.”

“Say, that’s not a bad idea. Some dogs out there in the Commonwealth can track a man for miles. Why don’t you go fetch him and let him have a whiff? See if he picks up the trail.” Valentine looked hesitant for a moment, then added, “Before you head out… I know this is personal business. If you have to face Kellogg on your own, just say so. Besides, you have plenty of company. We can’t all go sniffing through the Commonwealth after one man.”

“I think we can fit in one more. As it is, as I’m sure you noticed, half my family stayed behind to handle other things.”

Valentine smiled, which looked a skosh odd on the face of a Gen-2 synth. “All right. Let’s get that bastard. This is your show from here on out, okay? You say jump, I’ll say how high.”

Tsuna laughed merrily. “You’re not a circus monkey, but I get your meaning. Let’s head out, then, see what Dogmeat can find.”

Dogmeat was waiting for them. Tsuna knew—or rather, he assumed, based on game events—that had he not taken the time to “meet” Dogmeat, Valentine could have summoned him, though how such a high-pitched sound could reach so far and bring the dog running from fifteen miles away…

“Dogmeat,” he said. “You willing to do a tracking job, boy?” He knelt down and offered up one of the cigars for the dog to scent.

Dogmeat sniffed, whuffed, then barked and wheeled around so he could gambol off down the mesh walkway. The dog led them out of town, up the hill to the south, and to a small pond, where an ashtray and cigar were waiting.

After a quick scent refresher they were off again. The road continued south, but Dogmeat turned west onto the train tracks, where Tsuna knew they would have a contingent of mole rats to deal with along the way, which they easily took out.

Farther on, rather than simply stay on the tracks to cross an underpass, Dogmeat went down a set of pedestrian stairs to linger near a blood-soaked rag and the corpse of some poor unfortunate. 

“Looks like another one of Kellogg’s pitstops,” Valentine commented. “Keep your eyes open.”

Tsuna got a military circuit board out of the broken turret, so that was nice.

Once Dogmeat had refreshed the scent they were off again, back up the other side.

“I’m telling ya, that nose is second to none,” Valentine said.

“He’s a very good dog,” he replied.

Back on the tracks they encountered some feral, mutated dogs and a yao guai (though he failed to understand why the locals used that name when “bear” would have worked just fine), and continued on to a small facility with a tower, a water tower, and what looked like a small warehouse.

Inside was a set of stairs leading down to a tunnel and another pitstop of Kellogg’s, complete with a bottle of stout, a glass, and an ashtray. He supposed it made sense to take a short break in a relatively sheltered area, but aside from Kellogg potentially being hurt (based on the bloody rag), Tsuna could not figure why so many stops when they were not all that far apart.

Dogmeat followed the road over a bridge infested with ghouls and wrecked cars for them to hide under, then west again along the road, past a small town area, and under the highway. It began to rain, which was annoying, but Tsuna was able to amuse himself by looting a number of wrecked Protectron-model robots.

“Tracking known mercenary,” a metallic voice informed them. “Exercise extreme caution.”

Tsuna snorted. An odd thing for an Assaultron to say. Those things were deadly in their own right, and far too quick.

“Attention, assailant. Lower your weapons immediately.”

“Damn, hell of a party here,” Valentine commented.

“Alert: Critical signs… Alert: Critical signs.”

The Assaultron was in two pieces, which spoke to a certain level of skill. The head was resting on a metal case, while the body (missing its arms) was laid out on the pavement in front of it. A cigar rested insolently on the case next to the head.

“Error. System corrupt. I can’t feel my legs.”

He could almost feel sorry for the thing; it had sounded almost horrified. Dogmeat refreshed the scent and gamboled off again. Tsuna was just pleased they should almost be there, as the rain made everything harder and more uncomfortable. Sin was looking particularly displeased.

“What’s the matter, schatz?” he asked. “Worried you’ll have to spend too much time blocking that hat?”

Sin scowled at him, then looked away when Dogmeat barked impatiently.

“Kami-sama, I need another shower,” he whined when he was pasted by a bloatfly that popped up ahead.

Once those were taken care of Dogmeat veered onto the road north, then west again, this time up a hill covered in the burnt-out, spooky husks of trees and bright red-orange fungi. Up ahead, once they got high enough, he could see a massive dish in the distance, so they were almost there.

Dogmeat stopped at a mesh fence to whine around some bloody bandages—perhaps the Assaultron had gotten in a few before Kellogg dismembered it?—and after a final refresh the dog was off again, through a break in the fence, into the Fort Hagen complex and past a small hospital or infirmary swarming with more bloatflies.

“If this is a military complex, I’d expect turrets,” he said warningly.

Two radar or satellite dishes were prominent in the background, and on the heels of his warning came bullets whizzing their way. Sin made quick work of them as the dog skittered off to the front of the building hosting them and into the entryway.

The doors were boarded up and further hidden by cement blocks and sandbags. “I take it this is the place. Is he in here, Dogmeat?”

“I knew Dogmeat would sniff our man out. Let’s give our four-legged friend a break and take it from here,” Valentine said.

Tsuna nodded and knelt down so he could give the dog an affectionate pat on the head. “Excellent work. You go rest now.”

Dogmeat whined and head-butted his hand for another pat, then loped off, presumably to Sanctuary or the Red Rocket where they had first encountered him.

Around to the left was a short drop to a parking garage, which had a ramp down an additional level to more parking and, more importantly, a door into the fort. A small living area had been fashioned down there behind some large crates, with a chair, bed, table, and chem lab, so Tsuna took the opportunity to call for a break.

“It’s a shithole, but we can rest briefly, have a snack, before we continue,” he said, grabbing clean water (ostensibly) from his pack so he could wash up enough that he wouldn’t be adverse to eating, never mind the corpse in plain view, sprawled on a chair, probably dead from a drug overdose.

“I’ll keep watch,” Valentine said. “Unlike you, I don’t need food or rest, so…”

“Thank you,” Chikusa said politely as he produced his own water and hand towel.

“So, now we get to track down this mercenary in his lair and shake him down for information,” Daemon said, his eyes and expression saying otherwise.

He has cybernetics, and I don’t know if they in any way communicate with the Institute, he pointed out. I would think not, because if they could do that they could remotely shut down their synths rather than sending out Coursers to retrieve them.

Still, that his brain is not fully human… Daemon looked contemplative at the thought.

The synth components don’t count as cybernetics—to the Institute, anyway—but still…

Satisfied that his hands were clean enough, Tsuna tucked the cloth away for later washing and pulled out a bento.

His easy use of hashi caught Valentine’s eye and moved him to comment, “Not a lot of people around here use something like that.”

“We’re … different,” he said. “And I have never forgotten my homeland.”

“…Not Chinese,” Valentine said slowly. “I can’t see…”

“What? Having been allowed to even enter a vault pre-war? No, I am originally from Japan. Vault-Tec seemed to be under the impression my name was Stephen Russell.”

Valentine’s surprisingly mobile face expressed mild surprise. “I can’t believe I never got around to asking. What is it, then?”

“I go by Heul, even though my birth name is Tsunayoshi.”

“That’s quite a mouthful,” Valentine muttered.

“A bit much for everyday life,” he said agreeably. “I went by Tsuna, then. Heul is a name I chose for myself.”

“He wanted to be like me,” Daemon said facetiously. “In case you didn’t catch it in all this, my name is Yeul, though I often go by Daemon. My twin’s is Xeul.”

Valentine looked inquiringly at Sin and Chikusa, who obligingly offered up their names.

“Chikusa,” Chikusa said simply.

“Sin, though it’s a chosen name and not the one I was born with,” Sin said. “Not exactly, anyway.”

Tsuna grinned. “I admit, we have been shockingly remiss in our manners as to forget to do the proper thing. The rest of my family are Hayato, Mukuro, and Ken. Those three plus Xeul are on a scrap run.”

“Suppose it would be more than a little crowded with quite so many.”

No one pointed out that it had been already in Vault 114, if only because they were not so unkind toward someone simply making conversation.

“So, this Kellogg, he’s a real pro, huh?” Tsuna said as he tucked the empty bento into his little pack. “If he is connected to the Institute…”

“Would he have synths with him?” Chikusa wondered.

“Basically. All right. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we hopefully have a better idea of where that child is. I know it’s somewhat pointless in that his parents are long since dead, but…”

“Knowing _why_ he was taken…” Daemon said.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Directly through the door was a short hallway. Straight ahead was a door, while a staircase led upward to the left. The door, of course, was chained on the other side, so the staircase it was. Interestingly they went up two floors before it opened out again. A Protectron pod was immediately visible, an accompanying terminal on the wall nearby, and a set of doors.

A step forward and a turn right showed the stairs continued on up, and the short hallway appeared to open up, though there was precious little light back there to see by. Sin hacked into the terminal long enough to activate the Protectron, then Tsuna led them up another flight of stairs to see a turret lurking just past the door up there and a little to the left.

“Engaging hostile life form,” a mechanical voice stated from below, so the Protectron had clearly flushed out a hostile.

“That’s a Gen-2,” Valentine said helpfully. “You can tell by the voice.”

“Are they…?”

Valentine got his meaning and shook his head. “Far as I know, they’re just machines. They have no will of their own, just a limited AI.”

“Simplifies things, then. Spread out, folks, and take them down,” he said as he fired on the turret and blew it apart.

Tempted to sneak in behind you and start scrapping.

Wait until we take Kellogg down, please, he wrote back. He might have cameras in here to go with the speakers I know are lower down, and I don’t want him noticing or getting spooked.

Of course, darling. We’re stripping the Super-Duper Mart in Lexington at the moment. A few dead Minutemen in here, which matches up with what Garvey said earlier.

He aimed down the hall and through a blown-out wall at a synth and fired; its head exploded.

Also some markings in white paint.

Those are Railroad symbols. I can’t remember offhand what each one means, though.

There was a ladder leading to a hatch in the ceiling in one room, so they were on the top floor. Nothing else was moving on that floor, so Tsuna backtracked down the stairs.

“Kellogg’s secure facility—infiltrated. Termination—required,” a Gen-2 voice stated. “Stealth capabilities. Fascinating.”

“That’s no Spock,” he heard Daemon mutter.

“Hello? You cannot escape detection for long. Your stealthy attack was unsuccessful. And now you must die.”

Tsuna snorted.

“Tell me we don’t need to find something in here,” Valentine murmured. “Because that may take a while.”

Tsuna snorted again, then fired as another synth popped through a broken wall. Eventually he worked his way around to an area with a lot of skeletons still clothed in ragged army uniforms and helmets, plus a whole lot of consoles.

After taking out the turret and two more synths—he was getting fairly good at not wasting ammunition—he stood up and walked forward cautiously. A faint blinking warned him of a mine, but Sin slipped around him and took care of it, then hacked the terminal attached to a pillar.

“Looks like the last time I got a checkup in here,” Valentine said, having wandered in.

Tsuna flashed him a smile and glanced at the door that had just opened, presumably due to Sin’s hacking. The thing was a maglock, so it only made sense. He ducked in long enough to loot the ammunition, then unchained the door to his right and ignored it in favor of the lift doors.

“Gonna be crowded, but…” he said as he got in and hovered his finger over the only functioning button.

They all piled in, so off they went, back down to the floor they had originally entered on, just on the other side of the chained door. Or rather, at the end of a long, dimly-lit hallway with a set of doors at the end concealing what he could see (because they opened briefly) was a turret and at least one synth.

Part way down was a chained door to the left, the one they had been blocked by before, with a laser tripwire a little on from that. Sin slipped ahead again to take care of it; it wasn’t like Tsuna had the first fucking clue how to handle them yet.

A large room to the left held what appeared to be water treatment or pumps, armor and weapon workbenches, but little in the way of easy loot. The doors at the end opened to a room with a desk, another synth, and stairs leading down. And also the first wall-mounted speaker.

“If it isn’t my old friend, the frozen TV dinner. Last time we met, you were cozying up to the peas and apple cobbler.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes, then nodded at the tension spring trap on the door at the end. Sin slipped past him again to deal with it. After a little checkpoint area and down some more stairs a turret was waiting to ambush them. But, as he was not scheduled to die a hilariously stupid death yet, apparently, Tsuna was wise to it and carefully poked his head around the corner so he could aim and fire.

Through a security gate was another speaker.

“Sorry your house has been a wreck for two hundred years. But I don’t need a roommate. Leave.”

A set of double doors led them into a new area, with tons of dead consoles and uniform-clad skeletons.

“Hmph. Never expected you to come knocking on my door. Gave you fifty-fifty odds of making it to Diamond City. After that? Figured the Commonwealth would chew you up like jerky.”

“For someone who’s clearly not invincible,” he said, “this guy is a curious mix of cocky and naïve. Nate was a decorated war veteran, for fuck’s sake. Had he been the one doing this, I think he would have managed. And his wife wasn’t a dippy lady by any stretch, not as a lawyer. And after her child was taken? Yeah, she’d have gone postal and bulldozed whatever was in her way, I expect.”

The hallway led into an area he remembered from the game. Aside from the synths patrolling the long stretch, there was a mesh wall to his left broken up by maglock doors every so often. All the way down at the end he could see another maglock door. If he remembered right, that led to the lift, and would not open until after they had dealt with Kellogg and opened all the other ones.

Sadly, they had to take the long way around, so he veered right and through a door. As he turned right he heard, “Look. You’re pissed off. I get it. But whatever you hope to accomplish in here. It’s not gonna go your way.”

Another long hall, this time with bunk rooms to the left and a communal locker room. There was a terminal on the wall, and Tsuna finally remembered that he had picked up a hacking program for turrets at some point, so he loaded that in and set it to override the targeting parameters of the six connected turrets, then yanked the holotape back out.

The locker room also held a security door (which Sin picked) so that they could collect the goodies in there. Toilets were down the hall, past a branch to the left with stairs heading down. Showers tucked around the corner, along with the sinks.

Downstairs was a small office room, a generator area (with another fusion core to steal from the fusion generator later to be acquired), a small workshop area, and around the corner from all that, an infirmary and a kitchen/dining area.

Down yet more stairs (Tsuna’s calves were starting to ache) he heard, “You got guts and determination. That’s admirable. But you are in over your head in ways you can’t possibly comprehend.”

Tsuna shook his head and proceeded down the gently downward-curving, emergency-lit hallway (shooting synths as he went), through a dark area, and back into the light through a doorway.

“It’s not too late. Stop. Turn around and leave. You have that option. Not a lot of people can say that.”

‘You don’t have the Great Shuffler keeping an eye on you, pal,’ he thought.

A turn to the left, up a short flight of stairs, and into a tiny room with a wall terminal and a maglock door. A look to the right revealed a hallway, with a bar just visible in a room to the left and what looked like a reception desk down at the end. Basically, a studio apartment was over there, complete with an en suite.

The maglock door led to the armory, which Sin helpfully hacked the terminal for. Medicines, ammunition, and a fatman of all things, with mini nukes. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and shifted those to storage, just so some enterprising scrapper didn’t come through, find it, and think it a fine thing to use on enemies.

The last thing anyone needed was yet more nuclear waste littering up the Commonwealth.

Back down to the reception desk and to the immediate right was a partitioned room with two halfway decent beds, and a bathroom/laundry area. Possibly for higher ranking aides?

The door off to the side was red and had flags above it and to either side; it was rather suggestive. The room beyond was larger and had a TV camera set up to one side, so they most likely did televised addresses from the room, deep beneath the surface.

However, instead of a swanky desk for some official to sit and look officious at while giving an address, there were oddly modern file cabinets, chairs, desks, and a bed. Institute issue, clearly.

“Okay. You made it. I’m just up ahead. My synths are standing down. Let’s talk.”

The maglock door barring the way swung open and his quest updated to confront kellogg.

Tsuna sighed and Sin gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“This is wearisome, I agree.”

“It’ll be over soon. This part, anyway.”

Down a hallway, a turn to the left, and up a short flight of stairs. Another maglock door faced them, but it, too, swung open, to reveal the closed off area from before. He could see stairs leading up to the maglock doors, cubicles…

And a convenient marker showing that Kellogg was presently behind one of those cubicles.

As he walked through the door the lights came on.

“And there he is. The most resilient man in the Commonwealth,” Kellogg said as he emerged, hands up, but still holding a gun. Three synths were also present. “Let’s … talk…”

“So, the boy? Where is he?”

“Hmph. Man, I’m just a puppet like you. My stage is a little bigger, that’s all.” Kellogg did not look any older than he did in Tsuna’s memories from pre-awakening, but he hadn’t really expected him to. “Shaun’s a good kid. So maybe he’s not quite a ‘baby’ anymore. But he’s doing great. Only … he’s not here. He’s with the people pulling the strings.”

“I didn’t ask for a divergence. Where? It’s a simple question.”

“Fine. I guess you’ve earned that much. Shaun’s in a good place. Where he’s safe, and comfortable, and loved. A place he calls home. The Institute.”

“And how do I get there?” he asked with exaggerated patience.

Kellogg chuckled. “Haven’t you been paying attention? You don’t find the Institute. The Institute finds you. You open the closet, it’s just a closet. You can never find the monster that hides inside. Not until it jumps out at you. But I think we’ve been talking long enough. We both know how this has to end. So … you ready?”

“You talk like a politician,” he said as he signaled Sin with his free hand.

A second later Kellogg went down, followed quickly by his synth guards.

“Good job,” Valentine said. “That bastard won’t be hurting anyone else.”

“I’ll give him enough credit for opting to risk his life rather than give a straight answer and betray his employers,” he said, crouching down so he could do the dirty work of looting what was necessary off the man.

“We should take a look around,” Valentine continued. “Get all the intel this place can provide.”

“Agreed.” Kellogg’s corpse had a password for his terminal, a cybernetic brain augmenter (Tsuna compromised and used Earth Flames to retrieve that bit), his custom .44, and few more cybernetic bits, and a few odds and ends like grenades and stimpacks.

“Wonder what Kellogg was up to before we dropped in on him?” Valentine wondered as he pocketed some loose ammunition.

“Gearing up for a mission, maybe,” he said as he stood back up.

“Heul, you’re going to want to see this,” Chikusa said, indicating a holotape.

He walked over and loaded it into his Pip-Boy to see:

> #### New High Priority Mission  
>  Mission ID 2E15  
>  SAR Mission Dossier  
>    
>  One of our scientists who is in possession of important research notes has missed multiple check-ins. His last known check-in was on the railroad tracks east of your current location, heading south.  
>    
>  If you find him alive, radio us and we will escort him back home. If he is dead, retrieve the research notes and bring them back to us.

Just reading it brought up a quest notification to investigate the missing scientist, so he supposed he should actually look into it. A quick check of his map showed a marker, so…

Since he was there he used Kellogg’s password to get into the terminal and see what was hiding there. All he had were choices to [View Access Logs] and [> Security Door Control].

Under [Access Logs] he saw:

> #### Access: Local.  
>  Login: Kellogg.  
>  Notes: The boy, Shaun, successfully delivered back to the Institute, payment received. New orders to track down renegade, gathered reinforcements, cleared out and secured Fort Hagen. We move out soon.

That updated his main quest and prompted him to speak with Nick.

The other option, obviously, opened all those damn doors.

“So, Kellogg wasn’t giving us any bull. But … even I don’t know where the Institute is, and they built me.”

“There has to be a way. They could not have sealed themselves away without even access for water or air, or to get people like the boy back to them there.”

Valentine sighed. “We’re in the weeds, here. Time to take a step back. Bring in some fresh eyes. Only person I know willing to snoop up the Institute’s tail feathers is Piper, the reporter in Diamond City. I say we head her way. Talk this through.”

“Diamond City it is,” he said. But rather than decide to open up on some abilities at that precise moment, he decided to follow the game and use the lift. Odds were, the Brotherhood would make their entrance, and he wanted to see it in person.

“Hey, chin up. I know the night just got darker, but it won’t last forever.”

“Well, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he said, then turned toward the stairs. Once we’re on the roof, feel free to sweep in from where we started.

Will do, darling.

They all piled into the lift and rode it up to a mini-bunker on the roof. A quick pause at the terminal up there opened the door. They stepped out in time for Tsuna to see what he was both anticipating and dreading.

The Prydwen was up there in all its glory, spotlights sweeping around, vertibirds buzzing at its sides like impatient wasps.

“People of the Commonwealth, do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful. We are … the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“Thus ends Act I,” he said quietly.

“Deep into that darkness peering. Long I stood there. Wondering. Fearing.”

“You’re quite the poet, Valentine,” he said absently as he watched the Prydwen fly off toward the airport. The effect wasn’t quite as dramatic as if they had waited until dark to emerge from Fort Hagen, but… Either way, it was disquieting.

Daemon gave him a speaking look.

Tsuna nodded after a moment and turned to Valentine. “Time for a disclosure.”

“Oh?”

“I said … we’re different. I’m going to show you part of what that means. Why? Because I don’t feel like _walking_ all the way back to Diamond City.”

Valentine managed to look confused, but nodded nevertheless.

Tsuna moved closer and gestured for the synth’s arm, which was readily enough offered, so he took it, then stepped to his house in storage, then let go.

Valentine reacted predictably, with surprise and confusion. “What—!?”

“Think of it as teleportation,” he said as Daemon, Sin, and Chikusa stepped over. “This is our home. It’s just as remote and unreachable as the Institute, maybe more so. If you don’t mind waiting for a short time, we’d like to go shower. Then I can prepare lunch and we can talk.”

If you’re making lunch, we’re coming home long enough for that.

Tsuna smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”

Valentine just looked further surprised at flaming purple words in the air, then stepped back as Xeul, Hayato, Mukuro, and Ken appeared from nothing.

“We’ll be right back, okay? Nothing here will harm you. It’s just a house.”

Valentine nodded and wandered over to the window, to stare at a very peculiar sky and probably run diagnostics a few million times and wonder if it was possible for synths to hallucinate.

Tsuna kept a window on him, of course, as he went to wash off the filth of the Commonwealth and Fort Hagen. He was back less then ten minutes later, dressed in fresh clothing and sporting damp hair. He moved to the refrigerator and stared inside, wondering what to make.

“How about something simple, like BLTs?” Hayato suggested, also back from his shower.

He hummed and nodded. “Sure. Will you start the oil for chips?”

“You got it.”

Tsuna pulled bacon out, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, and mayo, then set to work. Ken wandered in and helpfully started toasting bread, then his twins arrived to grab plates and glasses, and get everyone set for drinks.

Valentine just stared at them, either blankly or wondering where in fuck they had gotten their hands on pre-war foods, and fresh at that.

By the time everyone was assembled, the food was ready, so everyone sat down to enjoy.

Tsuna took a bite of his sandwich and savored the taste, then looked at Valentine. “You seem like the kind of man who can be trusted, and I have a good feeling about you, which is the only reason we’re willing to reveal just how different we are.”

“None of this makes sense.”

Tsuna shook his head. “No, but it is what it is. It’s just something we can do. I woke up in a cryo pod, in Vault 111. But when I went to sleep last prior to that I was in Italy. I am stuck in an endless progression of lives, usually as Tsunayoshi Sawada, but not always. Every time I die I move on.

“This time I’m here, in the body of Stephen Russell, the poor bastard mistaken for the father of Shaun, that kidnapped child. We have access to previous dimensions, which explains in part the fresh foods, stuff that hasn’t been seen since before the war. Though, we do have a garden outside that Ken maintains.

“We each have special powers, you might say. You could compare it to, uh, FEV gone right, rather than super mutants and behemoths. Teleportation is one of those powers.”

“And the writing.”

He nodded and opened a window showing Diamond City, with the usual people wandering around of hawking their wares. Piper’s sister was out on her box, exhorting people to purchase a copy of the paper. “We use windows to keep an eye on each other and the writing to silently communicate over distances.

“Now, my reason for revealing this is that we’d like to keep you as our local guide, because you clearly know so much more about the Commonwealth than we could hope to, but it would seem odd if we kept disappearing to clean up and eat real food, and we can’t always conveniently be near your office in Diamond City to make things seem plausible.

“You don’t have to believe so much as simply accept that we’ll be doing weird things from time to time. And, preferably, keep quiet about it. If you feel you can’t handle that we’ll manage, but we’d prefer to have you along.”

He returned to his meal to let Valentine think about it.

“There were a lot of ghouls at the Super-Duper Mart,” Mukuro said conversationally.

“But we got a ton of scrap out of the place,” Ken added. “To be nice we buried those two dead Minutemen we found there.”

“Which reminds me that I should stop back by Sanctuary at some point and let Garvey know about Tenpines,” he said. “I’m not in any hurry, though. He may already have gotten word via a passing trader. I expect that’s how he heard about them needing help in the first place.”

“You going to track down that side mission first, or…?” Xeul asked.

“Side mission. I’m curious to know what research they were talking about, if it was something useful or something horrifying. We can drop back to Fort Hagen, head east to the river and over, then follow the tracks south until we find whatever it is. Then we can hop over to Diamond City and see what Piper thinks about all this.”

“What about other settlements?” Sin asked.

Tsuna shrugged. “We can help them as we run across them. Or build new ones as we see places that’d work. We just need to keep on with the scrap runs to have enough material to work with. There’s more than enough out there to recycle, and most of those ruins don’t seem to be doing anyone but raiders any good.”

They found, after a long and torturous journey, a fellow in a clean room suit. Dead, of course. His corpse contained a holotape titled “UConn Teleporter Blueprints”, which was mildly shocking, and a Dr Jensen’s journal.

For the former he had the options of [Install Blueprints] and [Research Team’s E-Mails].

Choosing the first cleared the Pip-Boy screen and replaced it with:

> #### Copying data to Pip-Boy… OK

For the e-mails:

> #### From: J.Haynes  
>  To: N.Walters  
>  Subject: Re: Feasibility  
>    
>  Sorry, absolutely can't be done. Sending people over a few miles is one thing, but an aircraft carrier all the way to China? That would require as much power as the entire USA produces, TIMES TEN.  
>    
>  Even if all the ideas we have right now work out, we could reduce the requirement by about 40%, but that's it, sorry.  
>    
>  Richard's team is also still working on that portable individual teleporter. I'll ask him about how far it is, but from what I know, it's feasible at the very least.  
>    
>  Otherwise, try selling them teleporting bombs from the ship into enemy camps, or soldiers into buildings or something like that. It's still somewhat difficult to target arbitrary locations, but I think we could make it work. Maybe we could make some sort of a "Reinforcement Grenade" for this.  
>    
>  -John  
>    
>  From: R.Baker  
>  To: J.Haynes  
>  Subject: Re: Portable Recall Devices  
>    
>  Well, it does send you through in one piece at least. However, it takes a full fusion core to do that and then melts to a slag. Not that it matters much, since it won't teleport along with you.  
>    
>  The military is probably swimming in fusion cores anyway, and the cost of making individual units shouldn't be too high, either. Especially not if they are mass produced. I bet a parachute isn't that much cheaper in the end. Norbert should talk to them about saving soldier's lives, hostages, etc.  
>    
>  -Richard  
>    
>  From: N.Walters  
>  Subject: Bad News  
>    
>  Dear team,  
>    
>  As you might have guessed from the subject, the meeting with the generals didn't go well. With the use of the system as a means of transportation for aircraft carriers being infeasible, they considered the project to be, quote, "a waste of time and money".  
>    
>  Suggestions about alternative military applications, like using the system for individual combat deployment, or individual soldier recall, were disregarded.  
>    
>  To cut a long story short, we lost the military funding. However, we now also lost the top secret status. With that, we are at least free to turn to the consumer market. I will be making calls to find potential buyers. Could you please prepare some rough key parameters which I could show to them?  
>    
>  Kind regards,  
>  Norbert Walters  
>    
>  From: C.Reed  
>  Subject: Re: Cutting corners  
>    
>  In that case, point-to-point it is. I think the travel companies, or whomever Norbert is on the phone with the whole day, have the infrastructure anyway.  
>    
>  I also just wrote to a professor at CIT. He's a theoretical physicist who seems to be doing at least somewhat similar research. Maybe he has some ideas.  
>    
>  From: N.Walters  
>  Subject: Potential sponsor  
>    
>  Dear team,  
>    
>  It seems like luck is on our side again. After the refusals by the transportation companies, I found an interested party in the Super-Duper Mart, Inc. They are mostly interested in the technology's applications in their own internal logistics, but have also considered building access points within metropolitan areas, connected to out-of-town retail stores.  
>    
>  Please see and evaluate the attached implementation concept.  
>    
>  Kind regards,  
>  Norbert Walters  
>    
>  From: R.Baker  
>  Subject: Re: Transduction Parameters  
>    
>  We just did several runs with Lynn's parameters. They did indeed decrease the energy consumption greatly, however, there is damage to the subject matter.  
>    
>  Half of the rats we sent through died, with symptoms suspiciously similar to radiation poisoning. After that, we sent another batch through, gave the surviving ones anti-radiation medication, and they actually got better!  
>    
>  Lynn, could you try making different sets of parameters, so that we could do more tests? You might be onto something here. I'd say if we find one which is on the level of driving a nuclear car, we are good.  
>    
>  -Richard  
>    
>  From: N.Walters  
>  Subject: TLS Presentation Results  
>    
>  Dear team,  
>    
>  I am thrilled to inform you that the Super-Duper Mart representatives were more than pleased with the presentation! Even the irradiation of the items during transfer has been received positively, since it acts as a disinfectant, and has no other measurable effects. They assured me that a contract for implementing the Telelogistics System will be ready by November, after the Halloween holidays.  
>    
>  After all we have been through, this news calls for a celebration. Let's meet at 5pm at the main entrance. The drinks are on me!  
>    
>  Kind regards,  
>  Norbert Walters

As for the journal, it only covered less than a week, and the scientist in question seemed rather whiny. But what could you expect from a pampered dweller of the Institute?

“Huh,” said Sin, who had been reading over his shoulder. “This could be exceptionally useful.”

“And if they sent an Institute researcher after this and he’s comparing it to their own system…” Daemon said. “So that’s their in? They use a machine to teleport? Like on _Star Trek_ or something?”

“Sure as fuck sounds like it,” he said, tucking the journal away. He opened a window to Verde to see if the man was available.

Thankfully he was, and Verde noticed the intrusion immediately. “Heul, what is it?”

“Got something very, very interesting here. It’s on a holotape, though, and I haven’t found any spare Pip-Boys for you to play with yet. However, the schematics on the thing have been loaded onto mine, so I can spare the holotape. Hopefully you can copy the data off it without destroying it.”

Verde nodded, and looked at the holotape curiously once Tsuna shifted it to his lab.

“It’s for teleportation devices. I’m hoping you can come up with fabrication plans for us.”

The green-haired scientist gave him a shocked look.

“I know, right? These people were stuck in the fifties for too long with vacuum tubes and whatnot, and this Pip-Boy is the pinnacle of personal computing with a whopping 64k memory! And they managed to make shit like this?”

Verde gave the holotape another look, one that promised he would be exceptionally careful at cracking open its secrets.

“Actually, I have some other holotapes I’ve picked up. Some are probably voice files instead of text, but… It won’t be a loss if trying to get at the data on them goes wrong. So here. You can practice on these,” he said, then shifted over a half dozen.

Verde nodded, then said, “On a side note, I have another flash drive for you. It has fabrication plans for those decontamination arches, plus the RadAway, Rad-X, and stimpacks. I included a couple of different styles for the arches. Also, those bubble turrets you sent over. They have the usual IFF already installed, so no need to worry about that, and I sincerely doubt people on that side can hack into them. Also, ammunition, various guns, and a few others things I thought might be useful.”

Verde fetched a flash drive off a hook and held it out on his hand for Tsuna to acquire, then nodded. “Get back to me in a week, as usual, and I’ll have an update. I wouldn’t say no to a nice, home-cooked meal, either.”

Tsuna laughed and nodded. “I can do that. I asked Reborn for a favor a little while ago to send out a minion to buy us some fresh produce, meats… I’ll even make you a cheesecake.”

Verde hummed happily. “I’ll expect to hear from you, then.”

Tsuna saluted and stored the window. “Awesome. If we do set up a bunch of settlements, think how much simpler and safer it would be for settlers to be able to shift excess water or food around? Or weapons and armor. We could build a heavily guarded central repository and put some trustworthy people in charge.”

“I’m wondering—because I know Verde can pull this off—if there could be, uh, separate networks,” Chikusa said, “or if they’d all be in the same one. Maybe different frequencies or something?”

“What? Like one for common use?” Daemon said, “Another for guard types, another for supply?”

Chikusa nodded. “Something like that.”

“Well, let’s go see Piper. We cleared out Hardware Town, so hopefully it’s still empty. We can step over to there and just walk the short distance down to Diamond City.”

“I did hear there was a property for sale in Diamond City,” Chikusa said helpfully. “Two thousand caps, though. Do we have that much?”

“Um… I have no idea. Anyway…” He offered his arm to Valentine, who had yet to say a word about his decision, and stepped over to just inside the Hardware Town door after it was taken. His family stepped into place behind him, and they exited as a group in time for Tsuna to be wet on.

He blew a flat raspberry at the sky. “Really? Must you?”

“Poor baby,” Daemon teased.

“Bite me, brother,” he said as he trundled off toward the big city lights.

“Well, well, Nicky Valentine walks into my office for a change,” Piper said in response to their entry.

“What can I say, Piper? You, me, and hard luck all seem to run together like acid rain down an old sewer.”

“You, uh, including your client here in that analogy? So, you two are finally letting me in on this little case of yours. What’s the story?”

“Kellogg handed the boy to the Institute. He was working for them, probably as their odd jobs and wet works man on the surface.”

“The Institute? Oh boy… I’ve been investigating these creeps for over a year now. The Commonwealth’s boogeyman. Feared and hated by everyone.”

“True enough,” Valentine said.

“Sometimes they snatch people in the middle of the night. And sometimes they leave old synths behind to remind us that they’re out there. But to this day, there’s one thing nobody really knows…”

“Where the Institute actually is,” Valentine obligingly said. “Or how to get in.”

“Exactly. But there’s one person who must know, right?”

“Kellogg. Huh…”

“Yeah, he must have had access. In and out,” he said.

“But we both know that angle isn’t going to work…”

“We can talk to him,” he joked. “Feel like holding a seance?” Technically, he could pull that damn Resurrection Stone from storage and bully the guy into talking, but… He had a feeling the Great Shuffler would consider that cheating.

“If only…”

“So,” Piper said, “a murderer and kidnapper gets his brains blown out. It’d be a great ending if we didn’t still have the greatest mystery in the Commonwealth to solve.”

“He was too much like a politician, talking and talking and saying nothing of value. He wasn’t going to tell us anything.”

“ ‘Gets his brains blown out’,” Valentine said. “Huh… His brains. You know, we may not need the man at all.”

“You’re talking crazy here, Nick,” Piper said disbelievingly. “Got a fault in the ol’ subroutines?”

“Look,” Valentine said, eyeing him directly. “There’s a place in Goodneighbor called the Memory Den. Relive the past moments in your mind as clear as the day they happened. If anyone could get a dead brain to sing, it’ll be Dr Amari, the mind behind the memories.”

“Who’s this Dr Amari?”

“I’ll let her give you her life story in person. Let’s stay focused.” Valentine hummed. “I guess we’re gonna need a piece of Kellogg’s brain. Enough grey matter to bring to Amari and find out if this is going to work…”

“Jesus, Nick… Gross! Seriously?”

In the background, Piper’s sister stood there listening, a blank expression on her face.

“I know it’s grisly, but what choice do we have? We got no leads. Nothin’. That old merc’s brain just might have all the secrets we need to know.”

Tsuna coughed and said, “I found something … in his head. Some kind of small machine, attached to his brain. I brought it along.”

“Cybernetics, huh? We may have just won the lottery.”

“Whether we’re riding this crazy brain train or not, we can’t all go running across the Commonwealth,” Piper said. “So, who’s coming with you?”

“I have to go to the Memory Den either way, if I’m gonna introduce you to Amari. But if you want to head there together, just say so.”

Tsuna stared for a moment, then graced Valentine with a smile. “Together, of course.”

“Then let’s get going. Just a few more steps…”

“While you two are out, I’m gonna do some more research. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Piper. A fresh set of eyes was just what we needed.”

On the way up the steps to the gate he said, “I just realized. We could have stepped into Kellogg’s place.”

Daemon snickered at him. “Let’s see how far we get before it gets too dark.”

“In this rain? Surely you jest. We’re heading for that subway station to see if there’s a stop for Goodneighbor. Then we won’t get wet on for kami knows how long.”

“You are such a baby at times,” his brother teased him.

He dashed down the steps, through the gate, and up the hill to the station, then ducked inside. They had choices of Concord or Jamaica Plain, so he headed for the Jamaica Plain side. If nothing else they could duck out long enough to get a visual, then back in to ride to the next station.

A reasonably short time later they had arrived, so he asked Daemon to go get a visual, then they all hopped a train to The Castle, where they did the same. The next stop was Goodneighbor, which was useful. The far platform’s sign said Malden Center, so either that one connected to Cambridge, or there was another stop somewhere between that and Malden.

They were attacked by feral, mutated dogs when they exited, and he noticed another Freedom Trail stop along the way, that one with the number six and the letter O bracketed.

They entered Goodneighbor to be greeted with piles and piles of trash, two storefronts ( _Daisy’s Discounts_ and _Kill or be Killed_ ), and an idiot.

“Well, well, it’s the detective. Tracking down another wayward husband to his mistress?”

“Why, someone stand you up?” Valentine snarked.

“Tryin’ that, what d’ya call it? Evasive language, on me? And who are you, huh? Valentine’s new dick-in-training?”

“Not really your business who I am.”

“Gotta know who’s backing who in Goodneighbor. I ain’t never seen you before. Maybe you’re in the market for a little insurance?”

“Kami-sama,” he said, “I’m being hit up for protection money by a small time mafioso. You better back off, or you’re the one who’s going to need insurance, friend.”

“Whoa, hey, all right,” the guy backpedaled. “We’ll just, uh, say your insurance is paid up for now, okay?”

“Whoa, whoa,” came a new voice, whom he knew must be Hancock. “Time out. Nick Valentine makes a rare visit to town, and you’re hassling his friend here with that extortion crap?”

Sure enough, Mayor Hancock ambled on over, cool as a cucumber, in his historical get up.

“Good to see you again, Nick.”

“Hancock.”

“What d’you care? He ain’t one of us.”

“No love for your mayor, Finn? I said let him go.”

“You’re soft, Hancock. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

He noticed Sin shook his head, knowing this Finn person was too stupid to live, and wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

“Come on, man,” Hancock said smoothly (or as smoothly as his gritty ghoul voice could manage). “This is me we’re talking about. Let me tell you something,” he added as he ambled closer to the idiot. He then pulled a knife and stabbed the guy repeatedly in the gut, then pushed the body away. “Now why’d you have to go and say that, huh? Breaking my heart over here.

“Now I know you had ol’ Finn handled there, but a mayor’s gotta make a point sometimes. You all right?”

“I’m cool.”

“Good. Now don’t let this incident taint your view of our little community. Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone’s welcome.”

He smiled despite himself. “Yeah. I feel you.” Hancock was ridiculously adorable for a ghoul, like a Shar-Pei puppy or something, but he sincerely doubted the man would appreciate the comparison.

“Good. You stay cool, and you’ll be a part of the neighborhood. So long as you remember who’s in charge.” With that Hancock ambled off, his shadow (his daughter, if he recalled correctly) keeping pace, and disappeared into his office/residence.

“Hey. Let me ask you somethin’,” Valentine said, causing him to pivot.

“Sure, ask away.”

“I wanted to make sure you were holding up all right.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” he said. “I’m here now. I’ve just got to deal with that. But yeah, I’m all right.”

“Huh. You’re a tougher nut than I was. Took me a long damn time to get a feel for this place. Thank goodness I found Diamond City. It’s got its flaws, sure, but it beats the hell out of anywhere else in the Commonwealth. ’Course, when I took up there back when, people were just as scared of the Institute as they are now, maybe more.

“The massacre of the CPG was still pretty fresh in people’s minds at that point and folks were still losing sleep over the Broken Mask. Plenty of people assumed I was just a saboteur, moving in to melt down the reactor or poison the drinking water. But at the time, they couldn’t exactly turn me away.”

“I read about the Broken Mask incident in one of Piper’s papers, but… What’s the massacre of the CPG? That doesn’t…”

“The Commonwealth Provisional Government. Years back a group of settlements tried to get together and form a coalition. Every settlement with even a hint of clout sent representatives to try and hash out an agreement. Only the Institute sent a representative of their own, a synth.

“The man killed every rep at the talks. The Commonwealth Provisional Government was over before it even got off the ground. I took up in town not long after. I was damn lucky they didn’t just tell me to scram right then and there.”

“So why did they let you stay?”

“Because I’d rescued the mayor’s daughter. Gal of about fifteen, pride and joy of the mayor back then, man by the name of Henry Roberts. The young Miss Roberts decided she’d run off with some caravan hand she’d, uh, known for an evening. Turns out the guy was part of a gang of kidnappers.

“I didn’t even know who I was rescuing, just stumbled on a crying girl and four toughs. I took her home and the mayor dubbed me a hero, offered me a place in town. Lots of folks protested, said I was a spy, but he wouldn’t have it. Taking up in the city was tricky at first, but I never tried to hide what I was and people seemed to warm to that.”

“Tricky,” he repeated. “So it was hard for you, settling in.”

“They sure didn’t make it easy. I started off doing the jobs no one else wanted. I got more banged up being Diamond City’s handyman than I ever did living out in the ruins. But I guess folks never forgot I rescued the mayor’s daughter, so they started coming to me when people went missing.

“Wife runs off with a new paramour and takes the rent money with her? Talk to the synth. An upset father decides moving him and the kids to Goodneighbor in the dead of the night’s not the worst damn idea since the bomb? Go get Nick.

“After a while, the jobs got so backed up, they didn’t even ask me to do the handyman stuff anymore. Hell, I was so happy to do it, it was months before I started charging anyone. I never stopped being Nick the Synth, but it was Nick the Detective folks came to see.

“It was about then that things, uh… Well, things finally started feeling normal. It took me a long damn time to realize that home is where you make it. With some time and effort, this place can be home for you, too. Long story, but I hope it helps. You wanna get movin’?”

Tsuna interpreted all that to mean that Valentine would keep quiet about their peculiarities and was willing to trust them with his life story—which also meant they should be able to do his personal quest and give him some closure.

“Yeah, let’s go see this Dr Amari.”

Valentine pointed down the alley, so off they went. A turn to the left revealed the Third Rail to the immediate left, a bar down in an old subway station, and straight ahead was the Memory Den, under the Scollay Square sign. Assuming things were the same, the Hotel Rexford would be off to the left, presently out of sight.

He saw an unfamiliar set of doors off to the right when he moved forward, facing the Memory Den, so he ducked inside and immediately fell in love with the décor. There was a corpse in a clean room suit visible, so he rifled the body. Given that they were carrying a CIT laser, he made they assumption they were from the Institute, no matter how odd it seemed.

Another, similarly-dressed corpse was propped up against a leather couch. Back in a little office area—almost like a check-in desk at a hotel—was a third corpse and a terminal. A quick look had him backing out and saying, “Make a note to return to this place. If nothing else, I want fabrication plans for a lot of this. The décor alone makes this place a little slice of heaven.”

“Noted, brother.”

“Okay, enough stalling.”

Back outside Valentine felt moved to say, “Goodneighbor. Lowest place in the Commonwealth. Everything not nailed down rolls through here at some point.”

Unfortunately, before he could head for the Memory Den, he heard Hancock giving a speech from the balcony above the Third Rail, so he stopped to listen.

“Now, I know y’all are doin’ your own thing, but I don’t want anyone here to forget what matters… Hey, Daisy, glad you could make it. How’s my favorite girl doin’? Didn’t I see you on a date with Marowski the other day?”

Daisy—a ghoul—scoffed. “He wishes!”

The neighborhood watch men laughed.

“All right, all right. We’re getting off track. What was I saying? Oh, that’s right! What matters… We freaks gotta stick together! And the best way to stick together is to keep an eye out for what drives us apart, you feel me?”

“Yeah, you tell it like it is, Hancock!” one of the men shouted.

“Now, what out there in our big, friendly Commonwealth would want to drive us apart? What kind of twisted, unneighborly boogeyman would want to hurt our peaceful community?”

Tsuna’s brow went up. Peaceful? With mobsters running rampant?

“The Institute and their synths!” a cardboard cutout yelled.

“That’s right! Who said that? Come on up to my office, later. You’ve earned yourself some Jet.”

‘Ah, right, Hancock is all about the chems.’

“The Institute! They’re the real enemy! Not the raiders, not the super mutants, not even those tools over in Diamond City.”

“I don’t know, Hancock,” a watch man called out. “I’d sure love to give McDonough a kick in the ass!”

“Hey. We all know I got my own personal beef with that lard head, but stay focused!”

And if things remained the same, Hancock was McDonough’s brother, and had no idea the “man” was a synth replacement.

“Now, I want everyone to keep the Institute in mind. When someone starts acting funny. When people are doing things they don’t normally do. When family starts pushing you away for no reason.”

‘So was his brother always a racist asshole? Is that why he never made the connection?’

“We all know who’s behind that kind of shit. And the only way to stop it is to stick together. They can’t control us if we’re not afraid! Now, who’s scared of the Institute?”

“Not us!” shouted the watch men.

“And which town in the Commonwealth should the Institute not fuck with?”

“Goodneighbor!”

“And who’s in charge of Goodneighbor?”

“Hancock! Of the people! For the people!”

The speech being over, Tsuna turned around and resolutely headed for the Memory Den, and stepped through the double red doors.

“Well, well. Mr Valentine. I thought you had forgotten about little ol’ me,” said a stacked blonde lady lounging on a fainting couch, dressed in red.

“May have walked out of the Den, Irma, but I’d never walk out on you,” Valentine replied.

She made an amused noise. “Amari’s downstairs, you big flirt.”

Tsuna let Valentine lead the way, wondering along the way down flights of stairs if his eyes automatically adjusted to compensate for low light levels.

“Dr Amari?” Valentine said as they entered a brightly lit room. On a floor of red and white checks stood numerous consoles, two memory loungers, desks, and various medical supplies.

“I take it this isn’t a social call?”

“Doctor,” he greeted. “It’s time for you to reverse _death itself_!”

“What!?”

Valentine sighed. “I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but it’s true. We need a dead man’s memories. Guy named Kellogg.”

“Are you mad!? Putting aside the fact that you’re asking me to defile a corpse, you do realize that the memory simulators require intact, _living_ brains to function?”

“Technically, the corpse was defiled already,” he said cheerfully, feeling a bit like his trollish self.

“This dead brain had inside knowledge of the Institute, Amari. The biggest scientific secret of the Commonwealth. You need this, and so do we.”

Amari heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll take a look, but no guarantees. Do you … have it with you?”

She sounded oddly squeamish for a doctor.

“Could you say that like Dr Frankenstein?” he asked hopefully. “ ‘Igor! Fetch me the brain!’ ” he said as he produced and offered up the … thing.

She gave him a disgusted look, then frowned. “What’s this? This isn’t a brain! This is … wait… That’s the hippocampus! And this thing attached to it. A neural interface?”

“Those circuits look awfully familiar…” Valentine said.

“I’m not surprised. From what I’ve seen, all Institute technology has a similar architecture.”

“So is that bit good? Would it work?”

“Possibly. There’s no sign of decay, so the tech is probably preserving the tissue. Injecting some kind of compound to keep it stable. But there’s no way to access the memories inside without a compatible port.”

“You’re talking about me, right?” Valentine said. “I’m an old synth. If the Institute built me out of similar parts, we might have an in.”

“There … could be long-term side effects. I don’t know where to even being with listing the risks…” To her credit, she did look worried for Valentine’s sake.

“Don’t bother. I don’t need to hear them. Plug me in, doc.”

“You really think this will work?” he asked.

“No idea,” Valentine said, turning to face him. “But we got a missing kid on the line. That’s worth the risk.”

He nodded, and Valentine turned away again.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mr Valentine. Just sit down.”

“If I start cackling like an old, grizzled mercenary, pull me out, okay?”

Amari approached Valentine from behind and started fiddling. “Let’s see here… I need you to keep talking to me, Mr Valentine. Any slight change in your cognitive functions could be dire. Are you … feeling any different?”

“There’s a lot of … flashes … static… I can’t make sense of any of it, doc.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. The mnemonic impressions are encoded. It appears the Institute has one last failsafe. There’s a lock on the memories in the implant.”

“Yeah, okay, but is _Valentine_ going to be okay?”

“Yes, the connections appear to be stable. Hopefully, it’ll be as simple as unplugging the implant once we’re done. But that doesn’t get around the current problem. The memory encryption is too strong for a single mind, but … what if we used two?”

“Parallel processing?”

“Yes. We load both you and Mr Valentine into the memory loungers. Run your cognitive functions in parallel. He’ll act as the host while your consciousness drives through whatever memories we can find.”

“Any idea what I might see in there?”

Amari shook her head. “I have no clue, but considering we only have a single piece of the medial temporal lobe, and not the whole brain, I doubt it’ll be … cohesive.”

“Skipping through time,” he muttered. “All right. Let’s get started.”

“Just sit down over there,” she said, pointing to one of the loungers. “And … keep your fingers crossed.”

“See you on the other side,” Valentine told him.


	4. λ34: 04: Commonwealth

## λ34  
04: Commonwealth  
“The front door has mines, synths, and probably other fun and exciting prizes.”

Tsuna took the indicated lounger, and shot a look of reassurance at his family, though they didn’t look particularly worried. They would expect his intuition to nudge him if there was a problem, though Daemon was being surprisingly complacent about the idea of anyone not him, Xeul, or Mukuro having anything to do with Tsuna’s brain.

When the cover lowered he was greeted by a please stand by screen on the monitor, then Amari said, “Initiating brain-wave migration between the transplant and the host. Mnemonic activity coming from the transplant! It’s degenerated, but it’s there! We’re going to load you into the strongest memories we can find. They might not be … stable… Just hold on!”

His vision whited out, and when it returned he was in that odd representation of a brain, an endless expanse of blue-black with the suggestion of purplish neurons and synapses, rather like when he had visited his own in search of the Kyūbi.

“Can you hear me? Ah, good. The simulation appears to be working, although the memories are quite fragmentary. I’ll try to step you through the intact memories, and hope we find one that gives us some clue to the Institute’s location.”

A path opened up for him—he couldn’t begin to decide what to describe it as, but it wouldn’t matter for later when he showed his family—and he began to walk.

“…There. This is the earliest intact memory I can find,” Amari said as a part of a room appeared in the near distance.

“And that makes it official, folks. The final vote count from the Hub is in: 55% in favor of joining the New California Republic,” issued from a radio.

“Turn down that goddamn radio!” a man’s voice bellowed from behind a door. “I’m trying to sleep!”

Present were Kellogg as a child, and his mother.

“Remember, you are experiencing these memories as Kellogg. This may prove disorienting at first,” Amari broke in.

“All five states have now signed on, which means that as of this moment, we are all citizens of the New California Republic. I’m sure that’s going to take some getting used to for a lot of people,” the radio voice continued. “But here in Shady Sands—”

The woman scoffed. “What a joke.”

“What’s it mean, Mom?”

“Nothing, Connie. People like to talk and hope someone else is going to keep them safe.”

“Teacher at school said the NCR would bring back the good old days. Like before the war.”

“Don’t you listen to that twaddle. I’m going to stop sending you if that’s what they’re teaching you.”

“I’m going out!” bellowed the voice behind the door. “…Where the fuck did you put my boots!?”

“Listen to me, Connie,” the mother said, pulling a gun out of her pocket and offering it to the kid. “You take this. You’re old enough. You’re the man of the family now. It’s your job to protect us. Your father’s useless. But you won’t turn out like him. You’re a good boy.”

There was something just so wrong about seeing a ten year old boy, wearing onesie pyjamas with cartoon rocket-ships on them, and a spread of comic books in front of him, holding a revolver.

“All that talk on the radio—all useless talk. The only thing that will protect you in this world is that gun in your hands. You need to learn to use it if you’re going to survive.”

“I will, Mom. I promise. I won’t let you down.”

The memory space went dark and he could hear Amari’s voice again. “This doesn’t seem to be what we’re looking for. There appears to be another intact memory close to you in temporal sequence … there.”

A new path had opened up behind for him to walk, which led to Kellogg and his … wife? Girl? Whatever. And their child. Back when the man still had hair.

“Try that one.”

He knew it wouldn’t tell him anything useful, so he zoned out during the scene, only paying attention when it darkened.

“Let’s keep looking… I’ll connect you to the next intact memory.”

He turned away and followed the path again, seeing ahead a stretch of hallway from what looked like a bunker. That, too, would be useless, so he zoned out once it started. All he knew was that Kellogg had done something to piss people off, and they killed his family in response.

“I’ve found another memory. I’ll connect you.”

The next memory was a scene where Kellogg was being hired for a job, so it was also useless. Kellogg still had his hair, though.

“Well, we seem to be getting closer. Try this next one.”

The next one was interesting, if only because it was Kellogg’s first meeting with anyone in the Institute.

“Mr Kellogg,” a woman said. “I’m glad you decided to meet with me.” She had several Gen-1 synths with her. She was dressed in a pure white outfit, as if that would hide the blood on their hands.

“You heard all sorts of rumors about the Institute, but I figured they were just a convenient boogeyman for anything bad that ever happened,” Kellogg’s private thoughts had to say when Tsuna focused on the woman. “They were real all right, but they didn’t know anything about operating on the surface. Relied on their synths for everything. They had the resources I needed, and I had the expertise they needed. Turned into a permanent arrangement, which suited me just fine.”

“So, you’re with the Institute,” the memory version of Kellogg said. “I wanted to see for myself if you really existed.”

“We do, as you can see.”

“What do you want?”

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been rather disruptive of our operations lately. This must stop.”

“I do what people pay me to do. If that’s a problem for you, I can see only one way out.”

“And what’s that, Mr Kellogg?”

“If I’m working for you, there’s no more problems. From what I hear, you can afford me.”

“I don’t think you fully understand the situation you’re in,” she said.

“I think I do.”

“Very well. B7-48, initiate—”

As the synths moved to eliminate Kellogg, he swiftly took them out before they could so much as chip one of his nails.

“Shutting down…” one of the poor robots said before it crumpled.

“Impressive,” she said. “We may have something to talk about after all.”

The memory darkened and Amari broke in again. “Getting warmer. One of these has got to tell us something. We’re running out of brain here. Uh… Ah, there’s one that looks mostly intact. Connecting now.”

Tsuna dutifully walked the path, ending up back at Vault 111.

“Manual override initiated,” the computer stated. “Cryogenic stasis suspended.”

There were three people in there, Kellogg and two clean suits, one male, one female.

When he focused on Kellogg he heard, “I was now the Institute’s main operator in the Commonwealth. If they needed something done, they came to me. It wasn’t usual for anybody from the Institute to come along on a mission. So this one stood out. I didn’t know then who it was we were grabbing from the vault. Of course, neither did they. Not really.”

Focusing on the one at the terminal got him, “The eggheads never liked taking orders from a dirty contaminated degenerate like me. But they needed me, and I made sure they knew it.”

He got the same repeated back when he focused on the woman, so he spent a moment peeking into the various cryo pods. The people inside were awake, confused, and becoming frightened. Most of them started banging on the doors, futilely yelling to be let out.

“Vault computers are still working,” Terminal-Guy said. “That’s good. Checking through the logs. Hopefully it’s all…”

“Just find it.”

“Pod C6. Down the hall near the end.”

Tsuna could see his body in the pod across from Nora’s, where it shouldn’t have been. Russell looked completely out of it. A bit of focus produced, “Even then, I knew it was a mistake leaving him alive. I understood that kind of revenge, no one better. But I was cocky enough to assume I could handle some soft pre-war vault dweller, even if he somehow got thawed out. At least I know those Institute bastards will soon get what’s coming to them, too. If he could take me out, they won’t be able to hide from him for long.”

‘Funny how he didn’t seem to notice I had the wrong face,’ he thought. ‘Too many years in the interim?’

“This is the one,” the woman said after laboriously checking the floor labels. “Here.”

“Open it,” Kellogg said, having come to stand in front of the pod.

More focus produced, “I’m glad I didn’t have to kill the kid. I’m not saying I haven’t done it, but I never like to. But it was better this way. Better than taking her kid and leaving her alive.”

The scene played out that Tsuna only barely remembered, thanks to his memories being poked around in. The woman tried to take Shaun, Nora strenuously objected, and she got shot for her efforts.

“At least we still have the back-up…” Kellogg said after peering into the pod opposite.

“Cryogenic sequence reinitialized.”

“What’s the hold up?”

“I’m almost finished, Kellogg,” Terminal-Guy said. “I just need to confirm… All right. We’re good.”

The memory darkened and Amari said, “I’m sorry you had to go through that again. I’ve found another intact memory. …Whenever you’re ready.”

Tsuna followed the glowing purple pathway to a memory he wasn’t familiar with, so he paid attention. Kellogg was being worked on. His skull was open.

“Just keep talking if you can… I’m afraid this may be rather painful,” a scientist type said.

“Don’t worry about it, doc,” Kellogg rasped out.

“Anesthetic would lower your blood pressure too much, and I need you to remain conscious.”

He focused on Kellogg and heard, “Turned out I was the only one to ever get these installed. At least that’s the story I heard. Some kind of ‘complications’ is all they would say. I suppose they didn’t much care if something scrambled my brains. And anyway, by that point I wouldn’t have let them take the implants out. I’d come to rely on them too much. Which, looking back, is probably one of the reasons they agreed to it in the first place. Give them some leverage over me.”

“You already explained all that. It’s going to be worth it, right?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Scientist said. “These implants are much more advanced than anything you’ve had before. Dr Walter is very pleased with you. The Gen-3 synth program is finally making progress, thanks to the genetic material you recovered.”

Focus on the scientist produced, “This was my reward for the Vault job. I’d started getting implants a few years back, but only minor stuff. This was the full deal—the cutting-edge tech they didn’t usually let out of the lab. I volunteered for everything. I figured I didn’t have anything to lose. Besides, this was kind of their thing. Like killing people was my thing. Why not see what they could do for me?”

“You’re talking about that kid we got from the vault?”

“Yes, a perfectly unspoiled DNA sample! Now this next part is especially delicate, so if you can please look straight into the light…”

“Should everything be purple?”

“Hmm? Oh that’s just a calibration error. …How about now?”

“Better.”

“I’m just glad I have a chance to test these on a cooperative human subject. They must find you extremely trustworthy.”

“You’re sure these are going to work, right, doc?” Kellogg rasped in pain, looking a bit worried.

“Oh, yes. When I say ‘test’ I simply mean collecting data over time, which will be very valuable to making further improvements.”

The memory darkened and Amari prompted him again, so he moved on to what should be the final memory, the one in Kellogg’s house in the abandoned west stands. Sure enough, the child Shaun was there, with Kellogg. Tsuna was amused that the reflection in the TV matched what he would expect to see if he really was in the room.

Shaun was surround by scientific journals, which was interesting, and over the radio he could hear, “…in the, uh… The, uh… Publick, uh, Occurrences.”

“This appears to be a very recent memory,” Amari broke in, “so, good news, I think.”

“It wasn’t my idea to settle down with a kid in the middle of Diamond City,” focus on the child produced. “I thought it was a terrible idea, actually. But it was one of the old man’s pet projects, so here we were. Me and the kid like a happy little family. I ended up kind of liking it. A reminder of what my life might have been if things had turned out differently. But there’s no going back. I knew it was just temporary, and it would be back to normal business before too long.”

For Kellogg himself he heard, “This whole setup in Diamond City was part of some elaborate plan of the old man’s. Seems obvious now that we were bait for our friend from the vault. The timing couldn’t have been an accident. That’s not how the old man works. I wonder if he outsmarted me in the end. Another loose end tied up.”

“You know, the newspaper,” issued from the radio. “Oh boy, Piper’s really done it this time. I mean… I’m not, uh, not saying she’s right, but… The mayor, you know… Uh, he’s going to be really mad this time… I probably shouldn’t have even, uh, said anything…”

The poor boy was infected with a serious case of Ellipsis Syndrome.

A Courser showed up at that moment, decked out in all black, mirrored sunglasses, and a “don’t fuck with me” attitude. “Kellogg,” he greeted.

“The new breed of synths could easily pass as human. Some of them did,” the memory had to say when focused on the Courser. “But the Coursers—they weren’t built to blend in. They were killing machines, pure and simple. Smarter, stronger, and faster than almost any real human. I’m just glad they were always on my side.”

Kellogg reacted by snapping his gun up, then pulling it back. “One of these days you’re going to get your head blown off, just barging in here like that.”

“Minimizing my exposure to civilians is a priority…”

“Forget I said anything,” Kellogg said as he stood. “So what’s the big crisis this time?”

“New orders for you. One of our scientists has left the Institute.”

“Left as in…?”

“He’s gone rogue. Name’s Dr Brian Virgil. We know he’s hiding somewhere in the Glowing Sea. Here’s his file.”

Kellogg glanced through it, then tossed it onto the desk. “Wow. Some heads are going to roll for this. Capture and return or just elimination?”

“Elimination. He was working on a highly classified program.”

“No kidding. One of the top Bioscience boys? Damn. So… I guess you’re taking the kid back with you.”

“Affirmative. Your only mission is to locate and eliminate Virgil.”

Tsuna zoned out again at that point, just waiting for it to end.

“Teleportation,” Amari said wonderingly. “Now it all makes sense. Nobody’s found the entrance to the Institute because there _is_ no entrance.”

‘Ah, but there is. You just have to look harder. Or go the Minutemen route. Or brute force your way in with the Brotherhood.’

“Let me pull you out of there. As soon as you’re ready…”

The TV screen switched on and displayed the please stand by thing, so he used that as an exit, suffering a minor flashback to the events in Inaba in the process. His vision whited out again, but it was not too long (subjectively, anyway) before it was normal again and the lounger top was opening.

“Slow movements, okay?” Amari cautioned as he got to his feet, her hands up cautioningly. “I don’t know what kind of side effects the procedure might have had. No one’s ever … done this before. How do you feel?”

“Next time I have to watch someone’s life story, I want popcorn,” he said, again stealing from the game options.

“Well, if you’re cognizant enough to joke, I think we can safely say that you’re out of critical condition.”

He didn’t like the sound of that any more than he had in the game. It had always made him think it looked a whole lot different from Amari’s perspective.

“Are you … ready to talk about what happened in there?”

“We need to find Virgil. That’s the only lead we have, but at least it’s a lead.”

“I didn’t know Institute scientists could defect. This changes everything. He could answer all sorts of questions. Where did the memory say he was? The Glowing Sea? That can’t be right. No one would risk going there. Not even to hide.”

“Makes it the perfect place, especially for a presumably pampered Institute type. If he could make it there, well… They either ordered Kellogg to go after him to get him out of the way, or expected all the work they did on him would see him through. They could have sent a Courser, but I don’t know how resistant the Gen-3s are to radiation.”

“Yes, that must be it! He’s using the radiation in the Glowing Sea like a shield or a … a cloak … a way to throw them off and be at an advantage. If Virgil found a way to survive there, you’ll have to do the same, if you’re going to follow him.”

“You can bet on that, doc.”

“Good luck, and … be safe. By the way, I unplugged Mr Valentine first. Removed the implant while you were waking up. He’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Thank you, Dr Amari. You’ve been an enormous help.”

She nodded and turned away, so he trundled out, his family falling in behind him. Daemon didn’t waste any time in latching onto his brain so he could see exactly what had gone down in there, but Tsuna just smiled and kept walking.

Sin grabbed his hand and squeezed, so he squeezed back. He could easily see how Kellogg had started down that slippery slope, but the man had simply stopped caring who he killed, so it made it difficult to give a damn about his fate. There was no remorse, just a paycheck, not that Tsuna could afford to overly moralize given the notches on his own belt.

Valentine was indeed waiting for them, seated on a bench near the exit. “Hey, Valentine,” he said.

“Hope you got what you were looking for inside my head,” Kellogg’s voice issued from that synth mouth. “Heh, I was right. Should’ve killed you when you were on ice.”

“So, hey, Valentine, you still in there?”

Valentine blinked. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing much, you just spoke to me with Kellogg’s voice briefly.”

“Did I? Amari said there might be some ‘mnemonic impressions’ left over… Anyway, I feel fine, so let’s get going.”

“Yeah, let’s get going.”

“Been one heck of a ride so far. Let’s see where it takes us next.”

They exited and Tsuna led them straight back to that strange lobby, then wordlessly asked for Valentine’s arm, which he was offered. A quick step later and they were at the house in storage. Tsuna let go and heaved a sigh as his family stepped in, as well.

“It’s a bit early, but that experience was quite draining,” he said, flopping into a chair.

Chikusa wandered over to the refrigerator to secure a can of Sprite, and ferried it over to Tsuna, already opened.

“Thanks,” he said, and took a nice long sip. He then looked at Daemon.

Daemon shook his head. “That didn’t do a thing to your own brain. I didn’t expect it to, not with how calm you were going in.”

He nodded. “So we need to enter the Glowing Sea, or … we cheat.”

“We’re very good at that,” Sin said. “Send a window ahead? Step through at the other side? Bypass all the oogity boogity stuff in between?”

“It’s either that or a hazmat suit and power armor for all of us. I don’t know that I want to rush on over just now, though. I was thinking of checking out that lead on the Railroad. I mean, if our eventual goal is getting inside the Institute, and the Railroad helps synths, well… The Institute presumably thinks Kellogg is either still gearing up for the trip, or is on it now. We have some time.”

“But if we get a visual on wherever he’s hiding and keep an eye on it, we’d be in a position to step over quickly in response to a Courser showing up,” Daemon said.

“Right. Also, I promised someone we could transform that one rooftop into a private garden, and I’d like to do that, as a break. The grass might end up being AstroTurf and the flowers made of silk, but…”

“It might not be that private any longer,” Chikusa said. “Not with the Brotherhood vertibirds cluttering up the sky.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes and had another sip. “True, but I don’t care. Besides, it has that pool up there to relax in. We could build a greenhouse-type structure over the whole thing to keep out the dust and rain.” He paused, considering that radiation storms were a thing, though they had yet to be unfortunate enough to suffer through one.

“I don’t know how much radiation might get through any venting, though. Maybe I should ask Verde about filters for that? Hell, the water in that pool is presumably already contaminated. We’ll have to drain it, scrub the thing down, and refill it after the fact.”

How about you go meet up with the Railroad, and we’ll handle the roof in and around scrap runs?

“I suppose so. You’ll need to give us a new visual once you’re done.”

Of course, darling.

He glanced at Sin, who gave a subtle nod, so it was all good in his book. “Right, the Railroad it is. So, I’ve seen two of the trail markers already. Both had a number and a letter combo. That says we need a passcode and it’s right there in plain sight for anyone who walks the trail. We could step over to the Common after I finish my drink and have a stroll. No point in showering again so soon if we’re going to be traversing through filth again.”

“And to think I once complained about the smell of unwashed peasants,” Sin muttered.

Tsuna laughed merrily.

“I think we oughta talk,” Valentine said suddenly.

Tsuna blinked. “Is something wrong? You sound … upset.”

“What? Oh, no, no. We’ve just been traveling a while now, and I figured there hasn’t exactly been equitable distribution of information. I’ve gotten a decent glimpse into your dirty laundry, but you still don’t really know a whole heck of a lot about me. I figured I’d offer to balance the board. So, there anything you want to know?”

“…What do you remember about the Institute?”

“It’s all pretty hazy from back then, but now and then I get glimpses. Life inside the Institute … they keep you isolated. A single test chamber was my whole world for years. And someone was always watching. Then one day you wake up on the other side. And that’s it. They cut you loose. Welcome to the brave new world … with such people in it.”

He nodded. “They just … threw you out, like…” He shook his head, knowing there was more to it than that. “And the outfit?”

“After I started the agency it just seemed like the sort of thing a detective oughta wear. I got some old memories, pre-war, faded all to heck, of guys dressed like this … doin’ what I do. Puttin’ on the hat and trench coat, I figured it let folks know I was serious about the whole thing. ‘Clothes make the man’ and all that. Guess I felt they made me the man I wanted to be.”

He nodded again, smiling that time. “So … who are you, Valentine?”

“That’s a question I’ve been trying to figure out myself for a long damn time. I know I’m a synth, authentic Institute handiwork. But I’m still mechanical, not bioengineered like the fancy synths giving everyone the willies these days. I get tune-ups now instead of check-ups. But my memories, my personality, they’re all lifted from some cop who volunteered for an experiment back before the war.

“They scanned his brain and copied it onto the hardware that runs between my ears. Don’t know why they chose to make a robot based on some pre-war cop instead of a math genius or a bioengineer. But hey, maybe that’s why the Institute tossed me in the garbage instead of turning me into one of their people snatchers.”

“A pre-war cop, huh? So two centuries, at least.”

“Which meant, when I finally ended up out here, it was quite the rude awakening. I remember waking up one day in a garbage heap, a body in tatters, and a head full of memories belonging to a man who’d been dead for two hundred years. Suffice to say it was a confusing couple of weeks.

“Folks didn’t really know much about synths back then, so when I finally ran into people, they mostly treated me with caution rather than hostility. But the kids, they weren’t afraid. I think his name was Jim,” Valentine said with fond nostalgia. “The first person to actually speak to me after I got the boot from the Institute. My first human contact in this world.

“Grilled me for an hour. Once they’d seen I wasn’t gonna hurt anyone, the other folks in the neighborhood came out to ogle the mechanical man. It eventually turned into a pretty swell soirée. Local mechanic even gave me a once over, free of charge. Those people, they … they treated me like a human being. I’ve been tryin’ to return the favor ever since. It’s a surprisingly rare trait out here sometimes. Something I’ve noticed you got a fondness for. Part of the reason I’ve stuck around this long.”

“If you’re good to people, they’ll be good back. It’s something I’ve always wanted to believe in, even if it is a bit naïve. But as we said, we wanted you along. You’re easy to like and you’re a straight shooter, so to speak. We’re glad to have you. I just wish you could enjoy my cooking, but somehow I don’t think you have taste buds.”

Valentine snorted, in amusement, he was fairly sure. It was a bit harder to tell with him. “Well, I expect you’re about as bored as can be listening to me rattle my skeletons. We should probably move on.”

“We do have a secret organization to track down, so, yeah. Let me finish this and we’ll get going. Hopefully get a firsthand look at the people who help synths, rather than make them into slaves.”

They stepped out to the Common, not particularly caring if anyone spotted them doing it, though as an afterthought he realized the Institute’s spy system might catch them. They might also consider it to be a momentary glitch in camera system. He resolved to be more careful until such time as they’d been blown off the map.

The marker there had 7 and A on it. There was a sign propped up against the statue nearby, with “At Journey’s End Follow Freedom’s Lantern” painted on it in blue.

“Welcome, patriot, to Boston Common,” Tour-Bot said. “The start of the Freedom Trail. Feast your ears and learn more about the historic Freedom Trail, and learn the history of Boston Common. Starting here at Boston Common, follow the red path as it winds its way through our great city’s streets. Markers on the trail are placed at many famous historic sites. See Paul Revere’s house, the Old North Church, the Old State House, Bunker Hill, and many more!”

It went silent, so Tsuna started his hound dog impression, following the red brick trail around the Common. At the Massachusetts State House was a marker with 4 and L. Also, several raiders were staring at them from an alley, guns up.

They died after they attempted to extort money to pass down the alley, an alley they didn’t need to go down in the first place.

The trail wended back by the Common, existing only as red painted lines in places, with a short pause for a little feral ghoul extermination at a small cemetery and a marker with 2 and A. The trail meandered over to outside Goodneighbor, for the Old State House, which they had already seen had 6 and O.

Next was past the subway station and through the feral dog area, into another ghoul-infested spot next to what his notifications told him was the Old Corner Bookstore. That marker had 3 and I.

“Am I the only one getting the idea here, or…?”

“I fully expect it to be ‘railroad’ as the password,” Sin said sotto voce.

Tsuna nodded and kept hounding. He had barely turned the corner when they engaged in another exciting shootout with a bunch of raiders and some ghouls. It was amazing how one simple suggestion to lean on his intuition had made him not be utterly pathetic with a gun.

The trail led down an alley, up some stairs, and over to Faneuil Hall. Then Tsuna heard a sound he despised. The beeping sound of a super mutant suicider. “Mini nuke heading our way!” he warned his family. “Go for the leg on that beeper, Sin.” He was treated to a badly-aimed missile shooting past them and swore again. “Fucking super mutants.” 

The marker out front had 5 and R. His family took care of the green beasties and their hulky pups, then they followed the trail down an alley, cut left, and found another one with 8 and D. Given that the only thing next to it was a bombed out house, it might have been Revere’s.

And finally, the Old North Church, with a marker that had 1 and R.

And of course, there was a lantern painted in white on the wall next to the door. “Up for some ghouls, anyone? Seems like just the place.”

Another quick scuffle inside put down the ghouls on that floor, and Tsuna had to stop to admire the view, despite how ruined it was. There was another painted lantern inside as a hint, which he headed toward.

“Even after all these years,” Valentine said quietly, “it still feels sacred.”

He hummed.

The hinted doorway at the back revealed a green glow, which probably meant those funny little luminescent fungi. Or irradiated, glowing ghoul blood. Down a U-shaped set of stairs brought them to the catacombs—or whatever they called them—brick tunnels with graves and ghouls and glowing green.

“People have been down here, recently,” Valentine said.

He glanced back over his shoulder. “How can you tell?”

“That was one of the things I had to get used to, not quite seeing like the human being my memories swore I was.”

He nodded and turned back. A short distance on and two more ghouls put down brought them to the door, seemingly a grave stone on the wall. A lantern was painted on the floor at its base, and one of those Freedom Trail markers was on the wall to the right, wired up.

He spun the thing around until an R was up top, where the red arrow pointed, then pressed in on the center. It clicked. It was quick work to finish spelling out the remainder, with a press between each letter.

On the final press, the entire wall the headstone was attached to sank back and shifted to the side. “Showtime,” he whispered, then walked down the revealed tunnel to be hit in the face with a bank of blinding lights and the words, “Stop right there.”

Whom he presumed was Desdemona stood center, with Glory to her right, and Messenger-Dude to her left. Glory, _of course_ , was aiming a minigun their way.

“You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting. But before we go any further, answer my questions. Who the hell are you?”

“You can call me Heul. I followed the Freedom Trail looking for the Railroad, not as an enemy.”

“If that’s true, you have nothing to fear. Who told you to contact us?”

“I overheard some men talking about you, in Diamond City. One claimed his cousin knew a guy, knew you were real. They mentioned the Freedom Trail, something about a passcode.”

“I’m Desdemona, and I’m the leader of the Railroad.” She turned suddenly and said, “Deacon, where’ve you been?”

“You’re havin’ a party. What gives with my invitation?”

“I need intel. Who is this?”

“Wow. News flash, boss. This man is kind of a big deal out there.”

“Sounds like I have a stalker. I’m taken, just so you know,” he said.

“It’s not like that,” Deacon protested. “A lot of people know about you. The Railroad owes you a crate, hell, a truckload of Nuka-Cola for what you did to Kellogg. He was our public enemy number one.”

“So, you’re vouching for him?”

“Yes. Trust me, he’s someone we want on _our_ side.”

It was interesting that they more or less ignored the obvious synth in his party, or the fact that he had a party at all.

“That changes things. So … Heul, you said? Why did you want to meet with us, anyway?”

“Looking for a kidnapped child, taken by the Institute. Figured if anyone had any ideas, it’d be you. Kellogg himself was the one to kidnap the kid, then hand him over.”

“Well, you got some revenge. For now, at least. I’ll have Deacon look into this. If anyone can find a lead, he can. If we’re going to be dealing with you, I need to make sure we’re on the same page. You know what a synth is, right?”

He slowly turned to look at Valentine, then panned back to her. “Yeah.”

“Good. The Institute treats synths as property. As tools.”

“Sounds an awful lot like slavery to me.”

“Exactly. So we seek to free the synths from their bondage. Give them a chance at a real life. I have a question. The only question that matters. Would you risk your life for your fellow man? Even if that man is a synth?”

“I do that already, every day. Makes precious little difference to me, so long as the person in question can think, man or synth.”

“Well said. Someone with your skills, your beliefs, normally we’d try to recruit you. But right now we don’t have time to train up a new agent. There are, however, other valuable ways you can contribute. And in turn we can help you. See Deacon for details. You’re free to go.”

He refrained from laughing in her face and turned to Deacon, who was standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Hope you didn’t mind the reception. When you tango with the Institute you got to be careful when someone new gets on the dance floor.”

“Caution helps you not get killed.”

“We know we’re all on the same team,” Valentine said.

“Exactly. Kind of killed our chance at a friendly first impression, though. But it’s all good now. I vouched for you. Nobody got shot. Still, I would consider it a close personal favor if you didn’t sell us out to the Institute. Thanks.”

“Never crossed my mind,” he said. “From what I’ve been able to uncover, they sound like mad scientists over there with precious little in the way of empathy, or even sense. But you vouched for me, just on the strength of offing Kellogg?”

“In our little outfit, it’s my job to know things. And with everything you’ve done it’s clear you’re capable. A dangerous enemy. And, I’m betting, a valuable ally.”

“And trust? Taking it on faith?”

“I don’t know that we can trust you, but I hope we can. We just survived a hell of a crisis, so we may be just a teeny, weeny desperate for new members. If everything was sunshine and bottle caps, we’d probably play a longer ‘getting to know you’ game, but we don’t have that luxury.”

“Really? Is that all?”

Deacon heaved his shoulders. “You just don’t give up, do you. All right, I have a short list of people I think would be a good fit for our family. You piqued my interest, so maybe I asked around. Did my homework. If you hadn’t found us, there’s a chance I would’ve found you, instead. Thanks for saving me the trip.”

He obligingly neglected to point out all the times he had noticed Deacon hanging around—outside Diamond City, as a drifter in Goodneighbor, _inside_ the Memory Den—and nodded.

“So Dez wants me to make you a ‘tourist’. That’s what we call someone who helps out with the odd jobs here and there. What a waste. I’m just going to come out and say this: the Railroad needs you.”

“So what’s the sitch?”

“I got a job. Too big for just me. You help me out, we turn a few heads, and then Dez invites you into the fold. Then if you get into a bind and need help, your buddies in the Railroad got your back.”

“All right. Where’s this job, then?”

“Perfecto. Let’s meet up at the old freeway outside Lexington. I’ll fill you in once you get there.”

“Expect me around eight in the morning, then. It’s gonna get dark soon and I’d rather not be stumbling around in the literal dark if I can help it.”

Deacon nodded and trotted up the stairs and off into the darkness.

“Hey. You, uh, got a sec?” Valentine asked.

Tsuna pivoted. “Of course, what’s up?”

“I wouldn’t normally bother you with this sort of thing, but… Well, I know I can trust you at this point. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been getting these, um, flashes. Memories of places I’ve never been. Things I’ve never seen. Memories of Nick’s. They’re not bad. They’re just, um… They’re just this inescapable reminder … that I’m not the person I think I am. That I’m not a person at all. I’m just a machine … pretending to be human.”

“We need to work on your self-esteem, Valentine. And it doesn’t matter if you’re made up of metal or flesh and bone. You think. You feel. You give a shit about your fellow man. You’re as much human as any of us standing here. You’re more than just pretending.”

“Nice of you to say, but your kind don’t usually have to deal with someone else’s whole life trapped inside their skulls.” Valentine paused, his eyes shuttering for a second, most likely thinking back to what Tsuna had revealed earlier. “Don’t get me wrong. I know I’m in Nick’s debt. These memories, they’ve … they’ve kept me alive. Nick was a hell of a good cop, a guy with good instincts, and a good heart.

“I always counted myself lucky they didn’t load me up with some ex-con or whatever type might volunteer to let folks tinker with their grey matter. But it’s thanks to Nick that I pass for human. Why I get to live cushy in Diamond City and every other synth is shot on sight. I know I got it good, but…

“My entire life I owe to Nick. Everything that makes me who I am—my judgment, my speech, hell, even my name—they’re his. And I can’t do a damn thing about it because without them … without them I’m nothing. A shell. All I want is a life where I have something I can call my own.”

Tsuna paused for a moment to organize his thoughts, then said, “Yes, you owe your survival in the beginning to him, I don’t doubt that. But you’ve already built yourself that life, Valentine. You have your agency. Your home. Your friends. Not Nick’s. You did that. You accomplished all that. Not him. He’s the—if you’ll pardon the expression—ghost in the machine. I probably would have liked Nick, but I’ll never know. Because the person standing in front of me is the sum of experience, and that includes a hell of a lot more than just his.”

“…You know, I … I’m just gonna need some time to think on this,” Valentine responded. “I appreciate you hearing me out. You’re a … you’re a real good friend. Thanks.”

“Any time, Valentine. Now what say we mosey. We have an appointment to keep in the morning.”

Valentine nodded and turned around to lead the way back out.

Tsuna could have stepped them straight out of the tunnels, but if any Institute spies had been watching, he would rather they see the party exit after a relatively short time, as if they’d found nothing of interest. Had he looked back he would have seen Deacon and Desdemona quietly lurking, having listened to all of it.

“Right, time for a shower,” he said once they were back at the house. “Valentine, hang tight for ten, we’ll be back. Then I can get started on dinner.” He wandered off after a nod and indulged in some wonderful, untainted, warm water—with Sin’s help, naturally—then dried off, got dressed, and wandered back into the kitchen.

He stared at the counter in contemplation. “Suggestions?” he asked of an arriving Daemon.

“Pizza? Steak? Mexican—we haven’t had that in a while. Um…”

“I vote Mexican,” said an arriving Ken. “Bonus that it’s dead simple.”

“Any objections?”

No one spoke up, so he flapped a hand at the scrap crew. “Get cleaned up. I’m sorry to say you guys smell like an open sewer.”

Mukuro tossed his hair and sauntered off like an offended cat.

“We’ll be back to help shortly,” Ken said, then followed.

“Which reminds me, I need to make a cheesecake for Verde,” he said. “He doesn’t even care which kind, so… Fuck it, he gets New York style.” He amassed a bunch of stuff to cook with after setting bricks of cream cheese on the counter to thaw, and got started.

“How many lives?” Valentine asked into the silence.

“Um, this is alternate thirty-four, so it’s my thirty-fifth life. In the beginning I didn’t even manage to last a year past waking up, but that almost never happens anymore. I stopped counting how old I really am, how many people I’ve left behind, heartbroken, how many lives I’ve essentially stolen.

“Doesn’t matter that plenty of them are Tsunayoshi Sawada, it still counts to me as having taken the life of a child, like a changeling. One day the boy is a normal enough five year old child, and the next he’s me, experienced, jaded, cynical, and far too knowing.

“This is the first time I’ve landed in this set of dimensions, though. In my memories—because I have all of Stephen Russell’s—I can feel his panic that morning. The report on the news, the sirens, the mad rush of people to the vault, the begging of people not on the list to get through that gate. I can see the bomb going off in the distance, and feel the heat whip past us like a wall of death.

“Thankfully I’ve been around the block enough times that my mind, my memories, are the ones that take precedence. I’m not confused. I can shove the others down and compartmentalize them. It helps that due to my unique circumstances my family comes with me. We keep each other stable.

“Sometimes, it’s just so hard to care,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Everything is so transitory for us, even though we always try to make a difference, make people’s lives better, help people to help themselves. Some people stand out, though. Like you.”

“Or Nanako, or Naoto, or Kanji,” Sin said as he stole part of a pepper. “Three in one dimension. Why, it’s practically a record.”

Tsuna absently stabbed him, tossed the knife in the sink, and got a new one.

“Tesoro! It was one pepper slice!”

“You’re supposed to help, schatz, not graze. We’ll be eating soon enough.”

Sin hummed sourly and moved to deal with the ground beef.

Ken wandered in looking refreshed, and immediately set to stuffing flour tortillas into wire baskets to be deep fried.

“I figure, after a good night’s sleep, we can step over to that Super-Duper Mart. You guys cleared it, so it should be fine. Save time on figuring out exactly where Deacon will be waiting. I have to imagine that Desdemona and Deacon are code names.”

In private mode he added, Which reminds me. Avoid Cambridge Polymer Labs. That comes up later as a place I’ll need to visit, so we can wait on scrapping anything in there until after the fact.

“They are a secret society,” Xeul said, getting out plates and cutlery. “You’ll probably end up with one after you’ve proven yourself.”

“Yeah, probably. I was thinking, ‘Fixer’, since that’s what we tend to do.”

Five minutes later the meal was on the table and everyone—bar Valentine—was tucking in happily. A part of him wondered, having once played through Curie’s quest, if this Valentine could have his mind swapped into an organic synth, but thought better of mentioning it. He had no idea how Valentine would react, for one, and it would be quite a shock to the people he dealt with on a regular basis.

“So, tell me if I’m being too nosy,” he opened with. “Do you have a way to shut down for like the equivalent of a nap?”

Valentine sort of grimaced. “Not exactly. Why?”

“I was wondering about tonight. Would you prefer we dropped you off in Diamond City and we’ll swing by early, or are you fine to wander around here? I mean, it’s just a house. There’s the garden outside, some warehouses. Nothing really interesting. Plenty of books, though, and movies.”

“Nah, so long as I check in every so often. Ellie does worry. Either of those would be fine to pass the time with.”

“Sci fi, comedy, mystery, suspense, horror… We got plenty of stuff, for any of it.”

“I’ve always been partial to science fiction,” Valentine replied, “but I’m not adverse to a good laugh. Or a mystery.”

“Anyone up for _Men in Black_ this evening? We’d wouldn’t even have to pause it for temperature changes on the cheesecake if I use a window to do it.” He grinned when everyone seemed agreeable. “There will be the odd joke you won’t get due to missing pop culture references, but those aside…? Should be fun. It has aliens in it.”

The next morning, after retrieving Valentine from the library, and having breakfast, they stepped over to the Super-Duper Mart after Tsuna got an updated visual from the scrap crew, then headed off in the general direction his map told him to go.

Along the way they ran into a rather strange man by the name of Mac. He was standing on the street at a bashed together stall, waiting for customers. As they approached they could hear him saying, “I wonder if I could get more customers if I hired a busty waitress? Nah, people don’t go for that these days.”

Tsuna’s brow went up and he was curious enough to stop and talk to the man.

“Ah, a new customer! Welcome to Mac’s Bar! We are currently open for business. Please excuse the mess.”

“…Why start a bar out here?” he asked, gesturing at the ruins all around.

“Ever since I was little I wanted to own a bar. A place where people could come and relax and tell me their troubles. Problem is, real estate is real hard to come by in most of the major settlements. So I figured, why not start out here, huh? Anyway, what’ll it be?”

To be kind he bought a few bottles of alcohol off the guy, intending to dump them off at a settlement at some point. “Well, I wish you luck,” he said in parting. They continued on, hiked out past Corvega, and headed for the highway.

They had the slightly unfortunate luck to stumble over a raider mourning their friend, open grave and all, who turned hostile the second they were noticed. After that it was a short walk to the marker only Tsuna could see, where Deacon was waiting.

“…Deacon, is that you?” he asked, though he knew damn well it was.

“Like the disguise? It’s wastelander camo. ‘This is my pile of garbage, asshole. Back off.’ Good, right? You’re lucky I didn’t do one of my face swaps, too.”

“You can change your face?”

“I put myself under the knife every year or two. New face, new body—you know, the full makeover. It keeps our enemies guessing. So, about the job. The Railroad’s only recently been using the Old North Church. Our old base was underneath a Slocum’s Joe. We had a pretty sweet setup until the Institute found us.”

“Your base … was under coffee and donuts?”

“It’s a lot better than it sounds. Well, it was until it was blown to hell.”

“Then what happened?”

“Our HQ was strong, defensible. Heck, we thought it was secure. Inside a minute the Institute troopers breached the doors and turned it into a shooting gallery. The survivors didn’t have time to grab anything. So we’re getting something important we had to leave behind.”

“Let’s find it, then,” he said, knowing Deacon wouldn’t open up about that yet.

“We got to do one thing first. We got a tourist nearby. He, or she, has information on the base. So let’s pump him for information before we dive in. For now, I’ll take point.” Deacon turned away, toward a bus that was angled off the overhead highway where it had been damaged. It made for a nice, though slippery, ramp up.

“So, I’m looking for Railsigns. Symbols we use to send messages to each other. If you like that, we got signs and countersigns, dead drops, and even a secret handshake. All right, maybe the handshake never caught on. Anyway, the tourist should have left a trail for us.”

Once on the concrete he said, “Here we go. Railsign. The arrow in the center indicates a direction. So our tourist is up ahead. Let’s keep going.” A short distance later he said, “Got another Railsign. Right there.”

Of course, Deacon was in the way, so Tsuna couldn’t see it. It turned out to be on a speed limit sign. A bit farther on they paused to take care of a pesky ghoul problem, and another Railsign was to be found on the front of a derelict bus.

These tourists probably had so much _fun_ hauling around all that white paint for the purpose of marking Railsigns.

“And another. We’re probably close.” They passed by more crashed derelicts before Deacon said, “See the plus in the center? That means there’s an ally nearby. Our tourist. You take point on the conversation. No matter what he says just say, ‘Mine is in the shop.’ Trust me.”

Tsuna moved on ahead and approached the tourist.

“Once your friend gets here, how about we have a chat, huh?” Tourist said.

Tsuna looked back to see Deacon approaching, and the others nowhere in sight. Probably so as not to spook the guy.

“Oh, thank God. Do you have a Geiger counter? Do you have a goddamn Geiger counter?”

“Mine is in the shop,” he said.

“Who the hell is he?” Tourist demanded. “HQ said they were sending one agent. Not two.”

“Sorry,” Deacon said meekly. “I’m new. He’s just showing me the ropes.”

“All right. The Wall is my witness, I thought I was dead. It’s about goddamn time you headquarters bastards got here.” Tourist had a clear view of a Slocum’s Joe down at ground level from his spot at the edge of a ruined section of the highway.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I signed on for some light recon. But that little Slocum’s Joe of yours is crawling with goddamn chrome-dome synth sons of bitches. The front’s fortified to hell and back. They’ve placed mines all over the goddamn place.”

“They have a minefield.”

“Yeah, the mother of all minefields. I couldn’t draw you a map if I tried.”

Tsuna nodded. “Minefield and Gen-1 synths. Okay. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“I hope it helps. I really do. As soon as it’s safe, I’m getting the hell out of here. So if you need anything else, better ask soon.”

“Nope, I’m good,” he said, then retreated.

“Well, isn’t Ricky just a ray of sunshine. You think he’s telling the truth?”

“Speaking of truth, why lie to him?”

“My job in the Railroad is intel. That job’s easier if no one knows who I am. So I lied. I do that. So you handled the talky talk, and I got to watch from the sidelines. Go team us.”

“Why would _he_ lie?”

“People always got reasons to lie. The Institute could’ve turned him. Or more likely, he’s just seriously pissed off at us. Take your pick.”

“Well, in any case, he didn’t strike me as the dishonest type.”

“Yeah, that’s my read, too. First rule in this business is never go against your gut. So if we take him at his word… The front door has mines, synths, and probably other fun and exciting prizes. So we’re goin’ in through the escape tunnel.”

“A frontal assault does sound ludicrous under those circumstances,” he said agreeably. “Why would a donut shop have an escape tunnel, though?”

“What, doesn’t everyone have one? Seriously, though, thank god for that tunnel. If it weren’t for that there wouldn’t be any Railroad left. It’ll be easier, but no cakewalk. You lead us there, pal, I got you covered.”

Tsuna nodded and considered jumping off the edge as a shortcut to the ground, but figured that wouldn’t go over well with people like Valentine. However, apparently he was supposed to divine where this escape tunnel exited out, or maybe it was a test? He jogged off back toward the bus-ramp, headed down, and off toward where the marker had moved to. If Deacon ended up thinking he was psychic, well…

He slid off to the right after passing the four-way intersection and forward to a culvert, then pushed through the curtain of vines covering that end. Inside was a red light and a door, which he eased through.

“The back entrance is safer,” Deacon said, “but be ready for Gen-1s and 2s. So it’s time you learn why we’re here. We’re retrieving a prototype developed by our good Dr Carrington.”

He nodded. “On we go, then.”

“Together with you I like our odds. First step is to override the security lockdown.”

There was a terminal farther on, tucked around the corner, which Sin quickly dealt with. It opened the maglock door into the facility. There were floodlights attempting to blind them as he stepped through it, but he could see a destroyed turret up ahead and a corpse.

“Someone left a Railsign here. This one means danger,” Deacon pointed out. “Yeah, we know, you poor dead bastard, we know.”

They were in some kind of waste or water processing area, or something, judging by the pipes and the angle they were at. It was flooded at the bottom of the slope, and he could see a Gen-2 synth moving around. And radroaches. Plus another corpse.

“Wait,” Deacon said. “See the box in the center of that Railsign—that means there’s a cache nearby. Looks like Maven managed to hide something before… Well, you know. Look around.”

He checked the backside of the nearby pipe and found a toolbox with some ammunition in it and a couple of crude pipe weapons. Ahead were more destroyed turrets, search lights, and synths.

“Tinker Tom managed to turn on the defenses. Barely slowed the Coursers down, but hey, it probably saved some lives. I don’t think you’ve ever seen a Courser, but they’re top-of-the-line in Institute ‘let’s fuck up your day’ tech. There’s shouldn’t be any in here, but if there are, just run.”

“Yeah, no, not happening,” he muttered.

Deacon obviously heard him and said, “Seriously, they’re deadly. Super hard to take down.”

“You’ll see eventually. Or hear about it,” he replied with a shrug, then crept off down the ramp into another pool of water. Five more suddenly “dead” synths and another few Railroad corpses and they came upon—

“Another active terminal. We didn’t have time to trip the defenses up ahead. Power them up and we can give our friends a little surprise.”

That handled he crept around the corner to the sound of bullets and lasers. The synths took the turrets out, but were damaged in the process. Samsara finished the job. A pipe like the one at Corvega took them along to a break which opened to another terminal, for another maglock door, set in one of those concrete-and-mesh walls.

Through it he could see broken windows and double doors.

“Hello?” asked a synth voice. “Hmm? Contact detected? Possibly.”

After more of the usual, Sin hacked the terminal and got the door open for them. It was, admittedly, slightly disconcerting the way a synth would crumble when Sin shot out a leg.

“Prepare to be shocked,” Deacon said. “Not every Slocum’s Joe has a massive tunnel complex underneath it. We’re entering a secret Defense Intelligence Agency research lab. A place that never officially existed. It’s called The Switchboard. The prototype is locked up in the heart of the facility.”

The Switchboard had the usual Railroad corpses and “dead” synths, overturned and upright desks, sandbags, and a huge seal in the middle of the room from the original occupants. And of course, tons of filing cabinets to loot.

In a room to the right were some beds, lockers, and a crude cooking station. Tsuna was already wondering just how much scrap they could get out of the place. After all, the Railroad had been forced to abandon the complex, so…

The room to the left had generators, including one with an available fusion core, plus some mattresses tossed down on the floor for more sleeping space. The only spot with a working terminal was up the stairs to either side, leading to a control room of sorts that overlooked the main space.

Oddly, the only thing on that terminal was from the DIA.

> #### Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM)  
>  Switchboard Mainframe (SW-01)  
>  [DEFCON Status - 2077]  
>  281632RJAN77 ANCHORAGE ALL CLEAR **DEFCON 3**  
>  230003ROCT77 COMPACFLT REPORTS 3 USOS OFF CALIF COAST, JCS ADVISE  
>  230337ROCT77 USAF HAS EYES ON SQUADRON OF AIRPLANES (POSS. CHINESE) AT HIGH ALTITUDE OFF BERING STRAIGHT  
>  230913ROCT77 IONDS REPORTS 4 PROBABLE LAUNCHES **DEFCON 2**  
>  230917ROCT77 NORAD CONFIRMS BIRDS IN AIR **DEFCON 1**  
>  230926ROCT77 AUTHENTICATED ORDER -- RESPONSE SCENARIO MX-CN91 -- REPEAT MX-CN91  
>  230942ROCT77 PENNSYLVANIA, NEW YORK -- CONFIRM STRIKE  
>  230947ROCT77 OFFLINE -- OFFLINE -- OFFLINE

A terminal by the door leading out had the controls for some as yet unseen optical tripwires, and on the wall opposite those double doors, once opened, showed signs for a bathroom (or rather, a WC), DepartmentX, Databanks, SIGINT, R&D, and the exit.

More synths were taken down. Tsuna assumed there were still synths littering up the place on the off chance the Railroad came back. It made the most sense. It was in the R&D and DepartmentX area where the prototype was located. It was also the location of one Tommy Whispers, according to Deacon, and the man’s custom 10mm.

“Where’s that play button…” Deacon said as he fiddled with a terminal by a massive vault door. “Carrington. Stanley. Salus aegroti suprema lex. Open says me,” he said as the wheel spun and the door swung open.

“So Tommy Whispers didn’t make it out. He died protecting our secrets. Lemme see… There. Tommy would want you to have his handcannon. Don’t let its size fool you.”

“What’s so special about the gun?” he asked.

“Tinker Tom restored it, you’ll meet him later. It’s cutting edge Old World tech. It’s powerful and more importantly quiet.”

Translation: it had a suppressor.

“You’ll never find another weapon like it.” Deacon handed over the Deliverer. It came with a Legendary mod of VATS Enhanced, which had always struck Tsuna as odd playing the game version of events. Railroad folk didn’t have Pip-Boys, so what good would that mod do for them? It was as if it was there purely for the player’s benefit. Or as a reminder that the military was in bed with Vault-Tec.

“Grab Carrington’s prototype. You turn that over to Desdemona and she’ll have to let you into our merry band.”

The prototype resembled a Stealth Boy, a small, rectangular box with controls on the top at the edge and what looked like a tiny satellite dish. There were also two actual Stealth Boys there for him to acquire.

“There’s an elevator at the end of the hall. It should be a hell of a lot easier fighting the chrome-domes on this side of the minefield.”

The final room of the underground complex was Databanks, and it had a terminal with transcribed conversations with our about P.A.M., the Predictive Analytic Machine, housed in the present day in the body of an Assaultron, though going by the transcripts, it was the DIA that had made the transfer. Early transcripts made it clear they were interfacing through a terminal, whereas a later one indicated P.A.M. speaking.

They took out some more synths on the way to the terminal that controlled the lift, diverted power to that same lift so they could use it, then rode it up, to emerge behind a secret bookcase-type door leading into the basement kitchen of the Slocum’s Joe.

The upstairs kitchen had a donut fryer, which Tsuna made a mental note to acquire—well, a lot of things he would acquire to make plans for—and the dining area had plenty more synths to “kill” and a handful of destroyed turrets. Outside was the promised minefield.

“We got what we came for. Let’s split up and meet back at the catacombs,” Deacon said once the synths were no longer a problem, then stupidly stepped too close to a land mine and damn near blew his leg off.

“Yeah.”

“See you soon,” Deacon said before he limped off.

That is a whole lot of trust, he wrote. He has that much faith that we’ll show up? I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.

It is a bit much.

Well, that took us two hours somehow, and after a few calculations for distance— Which meant it was Sin talking, as if the dark yellow flames didn’t give it away. —I’d say we can roll on in about … whenever the fuck we feel like it.

Tsuna snorted quietly in amusement.


	5. λ34: 05: Commonwealth

## λ34  
05: Commonwealth  
“Eddie! It’s me! Your old pal Seamus McFuckYourself!”

Shortly after Deacon limped off Valentine chose to initiate another conversation. “Any chance you have some time to help me close out some Nick Valentine history?”

“Of course. What’s the case?”

“This one’s straight out of the archives. Once upon a time in the land of Boston, there lived a king of organized crime. Eddie Winter. He was a bad man who did a lot of bad things. Hurt a lot of innocent people. But he knew the end was coming. So he sealed himself inside a personal shelter, located underneath the sub shop he used as a headquarters.”

“Sounds like a real scumbag, and more than selfish.”

“The story gets even more twisted. The arrogant bastard wanted to cheat death. Live forever… So he could come out of that shelter someday, into this brave new world. Sound familiar? Only Eddie didn’t want to be a frozen banana. No cryo sleep for him. No, he invested his money in some sick, crazy radiation experiment.”

“You mean he used that radiation to…”

“That’s right. Eddie Winter went and turned himself into a ghoul. Two-hundred years before it was fashionable. Hell, he was probably the first one. And I’m convinced that he’s still locked inside that shelter. Safe and sound. Ready to come out, and begin his evil reign all over again. I’m going to find him, and kill him, so that never happens. You in?”

“I get it, but at the same time I don’t,” he lied. “Why kill Eddie Winter, even if he is still alive? Yeah, he sounds like a defect to be rubbed out at the first opportunity, but this sounds like a personal vendetta on your part. What’s the deal, Valentine?”

“…I’ve got memories. Of a … of a girl. My girl. They’re not really my memories, I know that. They’re Nick’s. But the girl … she was real. She was beautiful, and innocent… And Winter killed her. Now he’s got to pay the price. So, knowing that … are you in?”

“Yeah, I’m in. Just the fact that Winter is what I’d call a defect is enough. I’ve read some of the old papers that managed to make it through. They mention him, so I’m not taking this entirely on faith.”

“Good. Now… I know where Winter’s vault is. But the door is sealed with a complex numerical code. Lucky for us, Winter’s arrogance knew no bounds. Back in the day, he recorded ten holotapes, incriminating different criminal associates. On each one, he hid a single number.”

Fuck, for any mafioso, that’s justification enough to ice the guy. He broke Omertà?

“We find all those holotapes, we get all the numbers. We get all the numbers … we get the code. And then we get Winter. I’ve been putting together a file on this one for a while now. There’s a pair of holotapes in here worth listening to, including one of Winter’s that I managed to snatch from the Cambridge Police evidence lock-up before getting swarmed by ferals. On my way out the door, I spotted an active evidence terminal. I’ll bet my hat that terminal is the key to finding the rest of the tapes. Probably worth revisiting any police departments you may have stumbled across in your travels, as well.”

“Got it. Let’s get this thing delivered, and then…”

They stepped over to just inside the entrance of the Old North Church when it was time, on the dark side opposite the lantern in there. Deacon had presumably used the back entrance, the one he wasn’t supposed to know about yet that the Railroad members normally used.

When they trundled past the still open puzzle door he could see Desdemona and Deacon, and Deacon was spinning a mile-wide yarn.

“And the new guy patched me up, put me on his shoulder, and blasted his way through the rest of the complex. Synths everywhere,” Deacon was saying earnestly.

“Carrying you the whole time?” Desdemona said skeptically.

“Amazing, right?”

“That’s one word for it.” The dryness in her tone would match the Sahara. “Deacon told me you single-handedly secured Carrington’s prototype, disabled a minefield, and wiped out a hundred Gen-1s. So, is any of that true?”

Tsuna sighed. “Mostly true. But there wasn’t a hundred of them and Deacon was mobile the whole way.”

“Embellishing the truth again, are we?”

Deacon gave him a look. “She would’ve fallen for it, you know?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Still… I was expecting Deacon to grab a full team, including Glory, to secure that prototype. But instead you cleared out the entire Switchboard.”

“You’d be insane not to sign him up, Dez.”

“You’ve certainly made an impression on Deacon. He’s never spoken about, or lied about, anyone so highly before.”

And wasn’t that just a weird sort of compliment.

“Welcome to the Railroad, agent. It seems we’re very lucky to have you. So you’re in. Now we need to know what to call you. Secrecy keeps us alive. Code names are a part of that. So what’s yours?”

“Fixer.”

“Fixer certainly seems an apt name. Your first official order is to deliver Dr Carrington his prototype and see if he can use another pair of hands. But first, it’s time to meet the rest of the gang.” Desdemona began to walk toward the back, where a lantern had been lit. “The location of our HQ is one of our most tightly guarded secrets. So be careful coming in or out. You can never tell when you’re being watched.”

She led to a door, the passage helpfully illuminated by more of those glowing blood or paint splashes, which led into their HQ.

“This is it. It may lack the amenities of the Switchboard, but it’s safe and we’ve taken precautions to not be taken by surprise again. Things are chaotic right now, so there’s plenty for you to do.

“Listen up, everyone,” Desdemona said once people took note of the newcomer(s). “This is Fixer. He did the Switchboard op with Deacon. He’s a full agent effective immediately. I’m counting on each of you to show him the ropes. Feel free to welcome him aboard. That is all.”

To Tsuna she said, in an aside, “It’s not an easy road you’ve chosen. But you’re never alone in this.”

After squashing the strong urge to start cleaning the place up—all those piles of bricks, garbage, and other filth—he headed toward the man wearing a lab coat. “I believe this is yours,” he said, offering up the prototype.

“An extraordinary feat to recover this,” Carrington said as he accepted it. “But that’s hardly the point. Without a lick of training and us knowing hardly anything about you, Dez has invited you to join HQ. It would’ve been nice if she had consulted with her second-in-command, but what’s done is done.” Carrington sighed. “Since you’re here now we might as well put you to work.”

Really not wanting to deal with the good doctor’s snit fit, he simply said, “What do you need?”

“One of our field agents, Old Man Stockton, needs help with a runaway synth, H2-22. So headquarters, as always, puts out the fires that others can’t be bothered to put out themselves. The paranoid old bat won’t even tell us the problem. He insists we get our intel from a dead drop.”

“He may have good reason to be paranoid,” he said, ‘oh, like being closely watched because he’s been made?’

“Perhaps he does. And maybe he did the other dozen times he’s made our agents jump through these unnecessary hoops. The dead drop is a mailbox with a Railsign on it. It’s a means of communication for us, so keep an eye out for them. When you make contact with Stockton he won’t give you the time of day unless you give him the proper countersign. The current sign is, ‘Do you have a Geiger counter?’ And the counter is, ‘Mine is in the shop.’ Please tell me Deacon taught you that, at least?”

“Yes.”

“Stockton is a prominent businessman at Bunker Hill. The dead drop will be near there. Use the escape tunnel in the back to get there quicker.” Carrington turned away without another word and went off to have his snit in semi-private. Presumably.

To any normal agent those instructions would mean having to scour the area in a circle around Bunker Hill, looking for mailboxes, and Railsigns. Tsuna just glanced at the map on his Pip-Boy to see approximately where to go.

“Glad you signed on,” said a woman’s voice behind him; it was Glory. “Means I might get to take the occasional night off.”

“Kami willing,” he said, then headed out the back, passing by a napping Deacon, and through a door into more filth and a watery area complete with scum and smell. For some reason there was a rowboat down there, complete with a skeleton. The tunnel on the other side led to a workshop of sorts, a maglock door protecting a fusion generator and some crafting stations, and the normal security door led to stairs, which led to a locked door and a wall terminal.

Through that was a husk of a building, with a partly missing roof and an intact door that exited out on the riverfront. The monument at Bunker Hill could be seen across the way, and the wreck of that robot-crewed ship he forgot the name of offhand. The U.S.S. Constitution, perhaps?

The dead drop itself was across the river, to the west, in a mailbox that faced the water. The Railsign was the usual starburst with an inverted teardrop at the center.

> “Update. Observed unusual activity has ceased. Window is open for a heavy to make contact, but they should act now. The package is still in my possession. It cannot remain here safely for much longer. Out.”

It made him wonder… If they knew something had been placed in a dead drop, why hadn’t that something been ferried back to HQ and given to a “heavy” rather than leaving it there and sending said “heavy” after it? Or was it linked to that one chick he saw at HQ manning a morse code station?

Tsuna made a show of looting every mailbox, newspaper rack, trash can, milk dispenser, and so forth along the way, in case the Institute had cameras on the area. He suspected the crows themselves had cameras in them, but…

Bunker Hill was a pain simply because he could never remember which face had the open entrance, and parts of the road around it were blocked off by derelict vehicles, shipping trucks and the like. For some reason it never stuck in his head that the monument itself was the clue.

He noticed a vertibird off to the side, down a side street, but ignored it until the world shook. He had to assume someone had shot the thing down.

“Bunker Hill,” Valentine commented. “What it lacks in personality it makes up for in greed. No wonder it’s such a success…”

Valentine was not at all complimentary about settlements in general, it seemed.

The entrance was bordered on one side by a bright blue truck, and standing there, just inside the gates, was a blonde woman. “You there! Caravan or raider?”

That begged the question of why differentiate? A raider would normally just come in guns blazing, right? Or … Bunker Hill was being pressed for “protection money” by a local gang and had rolled over rather than fight it.

“Neither,” he called back.

“Freelance, huh? All right, come on in, but no gunfire. Market’s open. You can do as much trading as you like.”

A shanty town bordered most of the green around the monument and building behind it, forming a wall. But corrugated metal could be pried off and all that wood set on fire, and there wasn’t a turret to be seen. Chikusa pointed all that out, rather pedantically, and shook his head.

Old Man Stockton was dressed in a sharp black suit and hat, though his outfit could do with laundering. On noticing them hovering he said, “Welcome, my friend. Might I ask, do you have a Geiger counter?”

“Mine is in the shop,” he said, seemingly negligently.

“You?” Stockton said in surprise. “I was expecting someone a bit more … armed. You’re with our mutual friends, yes?”

“Yes, I’m a … courier.”

“It’s always nice to make new friends. You just joined, haven’t you? All you need to know is this is the first stop for all our new … packages. So maintaining proper security here and preventing any unnecessary delays is crucial.”

“Safe and speedy delivery, that’s my motto.”

“My current package has been in my possession far too long.” Stockton made it sound like a drug deal. “I’m supposed to deliver the package to someplace nearby. But raiders have complicated matters. So if you could…?”

“Facilitate delivery. Sure, I can do that.”

“We’re supposed to make the delivery at night. So once you clear out the undesirables, we’ll meet after the sun sets.” The man slipped him a piece of paper with a crude drawing on it, for directions, then busied himself with the “delicious” taste of Nuka-Cola.

On the way out he heard, “What the hell is that thing doing here?” and paused.

“That what your parents used to say to you?” Valentine snarked back.

Tsuna shook his head. He would hope someone as well-known as Valentine would be cut some slack from the usual racist sorts.

On the way to their destination he saw metal spikes and meatbags, which meant another exciting fight with super mutants was in the offing, unless they just slid past them. Valentine wasn’t exactly the stealthiest, though they made it by without alerting any of them.

The BADTFL Regional Office was visible to the right as they hit an intersection, which presented an opportunity. Tsuna somehow already had Eddie Winter Holotape 8, but couldn’t remember from where. Near Diamond City, maybe? There was a police station there. With glowing radroaches.

A quick trip inside after shooting the raiders outside and a confusing trek through the interior net them several things. One was a holotape to Nick Valentine.

> “Detective Valentine. Nick. Listen… I’m sorry. You’ve got every right to be upset, but you need to believe me when I tell you I had no idea. Operation Winter’s End was my baby. I believed in it. I still believe in it. They kept us all in the dark, me included. I got briefed this afternoon, and they laid it all out. The whole thing. Winter’s deal with the DA. His agreement to bring down the other families. His idea to record the holotapes and incriminate all known associates.
> 
> “And them needing a legitimate op, and a real task force, to make it all look like Winter was the focus. It was the plan all along, Nick. There’s nothin’ we can do. Winter was a stoolie for the feds. He reported directly to the BADTFL. All on the books. For his cooperation, Winter will be granted total immunity. It’s over. Effective immediately, Operation Winter’s End is to cease all investigations and operations. The task force is hereby disbanded. We played our part, pal. Not the part we thought, but hey, it happens. Now we’re just another box in the file room.
> 
> “Nick, listen to me. Everything that’s happened. With Winter. With Jenny. Hey, it’s more than any one man should have to handle. You need help. Boston PD has been workin’ with the eggheads of C.I.T. Some new program they have to deal with trauma. Scannin’ brainwaves or some such. I’ll get you the info. You’re going. That’s an order.”

Valentine was staring off at nothing, a scowl on his face.

Eddie Winter Holotape 0 was downstairs, outside the cells. The terminal down there was useless, holding only records on the guys currently in cells at the time of the tragedy, but another one farther on had the information they were after.

> #### CASE 155-H: Winter Informant Log (Operation Winter's End)  
>    
>  ENTRY LOG 155-H-109 — BADTFL INFORMANT SUMMARY  
>    
>  Picking up a lot of chatter recently from Eddie Winter's boys asking after a Jennifer Lands of South Boston. Ran background on the name and turns out she's engaged to Nick Valentine, one of the detectives running Operation Winter's End.  
>    
>  Request made to superiors to fast-track the two of them for witness protection (or at least inform them of the danger) but request was denied. Higher-ups don't want to compromise ongoing BADTFL investigation.  
>    
>  CASE 155-H: Winter Holotape Logs  
>    
>  EVIDENCE LOG ENTRY: EdWi-00  
>  OBJECT: Holotape 00  
>  STATUS: In storage, BADTFL evidence room annex, Cabinet 04.  
>    
>  EVIDENCE LOG ENTRY: EdWi-08  
>  OBJECT: Holotape 08  
>  STATUS: On loan, Officer White, Police Precinct 8, Fens District.

‘Then yes, I did sweep through there and already managed to forget I did,’ he thought. ‘Shit.’ He crouched down and closed his eyes, so he could search through his memories. After an undefined amount of time he managed to bring up the entries from the evidence terminal there.

> #### CASE 155-H: Winter Holotape Logs  
>   
>  EVIDENCE LOG ENTRY: EdWi-04  
>  OBJECT: Holotape 04  
>  STATUS: In evidence lock-up, Natick Police.  
>   
>  EVIDENCE LOG ENTRY: EdWi-07  
>  OBJECT: Holotape 07  
>  STATUS: In evidence, South Boston Police, Officer Doyle point of contact.  
>   
>  EVIDENCE LOG ENTRY: EdWi-08  
>  OBJECT: Holotape 08  
>  STATUS: Missing from evidence cabinet. STATION SWEEP SCHEDULED 10/23/77.

His eyes popped open again and he stood up. “Right, we’re done here. Let’s get to the package location. Natick is a little out of the way at the moment.”

The location itself was a church, not far from the station, in the shade of the highway. Raiders taken care of, they entered to see the usual mess. It was hours until dark, so Tsuna turned to Valentine and said, “Do you object to the rest of my family hunting down those tapes while we take care of courier business? It’d save time. And then once we have them…”

Valentine stared at him blankly for a picosecond, then nodded. “That’s fine.”

So Natick is the next lead? popped up.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a quick look at his map. “West side of a lake just south of the highway, west of that interchange. And according to this, there’s a Coast Guard Pier due east on the other side of the river. I don’t know if that’d count, but you could check it out. There’d be a station in South Boston, I expect. One down in Quincy.”

“East Boston, Nahant, Malden,” Valentine added. “Already went into Cambridge myself.”

We’ll scope them all out. If there are more evidence terminals still up, they’ll hopefully give us an idea which tapes we’re looking for where. You have one, eight, and zed?

He nodded. “If nothing else, it’ll get us the visualization necessary to later return on scrap runs.”

We’ll get right on that. Soon as we have the holotapes we can share, and Mr Valentine can enact a long-deserved justice.

“Oh, grab a visual of Andrew Station while you’re at it? It should be near to something.”

Certainly, darling. It’d save time on the other end.

“It starts to get dark around seven and it’s coming up on three now. I say we step out for a few hours, have something to eat, then come back. Keep an eye on the place in case the package arrives earlier than expected.”

No one objected, so Tsuna opened a glossed window, took Valentine’s arm, and stepped them over to the house.

Old Man Stockton showed up right around seven in the evening, accompanied by a rather nervous looking young man, presumably the aforementioned H2-22.

“Everything looks clear,” Stockton said when approached. “This is H2-22. H2, here’s the person I talked to you about.”

“Nice to meet you, H2,” Tsuna said politely.

“Another person actually happy to meet me,” H2-22 said wonderingly. “This’ll take some getting used to.”

“Remember what I told you, H2. I’ll fire up the signal.” Stockton headed over to a lantern propped up on a stack of books in one of the front windows and lighted it. “And… There. Time for me to go. Keep H2 safe. Someone will be here shortly.” The old man booked it, back to the presumed safety of Bunker Hill, he assumed.

Tsuna readied his gun and kept watch at the door, waiting for the sound of footsteps. Shortly thereafter a young man jogged up, decked out in black leather.

“Don’t shoot. Fixer, right? I heard about you. Walked the Freedom Trail, cleared out the Switchboard. Glad you joined the team.”

He smiled serenely and asked, “Do you have a Geiger counter?”

“Right you are. ‘Mine is in the shop.’ All good? Now, let’s take a look at our friend. Hey, you, you okay?”

“A little rattled. But I’ve never been better. The other man… He said I shouldn’t talk too much.”

“He told you right, H2. You’ll need a real name, and a new face, but we’ll get to that.” High Rise—not that Tsuna had officially been told that—turned to him and said, “Oh, listen. There’s more of them raiders behind me. Afraid we need a little more help.”

“Sure, not a problem.”

“We need to get to Ticonderoga Safehouse. My home. A lot of synths fresh off the boat crash there until we smuggle them out of the Commonwealth. I’ll lead the way. Keep your gun sharp.”

It wasn’t all that far, though there were a good dozen raiders to ice along the way. The corpses strung up made it clear it was raider territory, so it was somewhat odd that a smuggling route went straight through the middle of it. Down at the river they hung a right and kept going, until they reached a high rise.

“And we’re here. All in night’s work for you agent types, huh?”

“Just part of the service.”

“I think I’m going to like you even more than Glory,” High Rise said. “If you ever need grub, bullets, or just a power nap, take the elevator up to Ticon. My house is yours.”

“Appreciated.”

High Rise nodded. “But right now, I need to take care of our friend here. Later.” He and the synth entered the lobby, then the lift.

From there it was a quick duck into a shell of a building and a step over to the Old North Church back entrance, then a jog to HQ.

“Doc,” he greeted on approaching Dr Snit. “H2-22 has been safely delivered to his next stop.”

“Good. But there’s yet more to be done. Since the fall of the Switchboard we’ve ascertained the fate of all but two safehouses. I want you to check on Augusta.”

“The safehouses? I thought the Institute only attacked the Switchboard.”

“Ah, the Institute didn’t content itself with just destroying our headquarters. No. They launched simultaneous strikes on all we hold dear.”

‘What they were aware of, you mean.’

“Herkimer and Allen Safehouses are both confirmed kills. Many fear Augusta will be added to that list.”

“All right. Point the way.”

“Details await at the dead drop. Have a care. Odds are very good you’re walking into something nasty.”

Another crude map was shoved his way, so Tsuna nodded and headed for the back entrance, if only so he could step out with Valentine the second it was dark enough to do so.

“You from one of those vaults?” Radio-Operator asked. “You got too many teeth to be a scavver.”

Tsuna nodded and kept going.

Another shower took care of the filth and he was shortly in the kitchen contemplating dinner options. He decided on yakitori, so the charcoal grill had to come out, as well as ingredients for tare. Kitsune soba, as an accompaniment. He just had to make enough to include Verde, as he had promised a home-cooked meal and a cheesecake when he checked in next.

He got started and Sin helped, while the others, trickling in from their own ablutions, handled various tasks. Once everything was on the table, Tsuna got the cheesecake out and shifted it to Verde’s refrigerator, then opened a window.

“Ah, there you are.”

“Cheesecake is in your fridge,” he said as he shifted Verde’s portion of the meal over, “and here is dinner, freshly made.”

“And I thank you,” Verde said politely. “I have been successful with that holotape. Even crafted my own version of a reader. I have made preliminary fabrication plans for these teleporters, but communication between them is an issue.”

“I do have an idea for that. I’ll have to acquire more Pip-Boys, though. This thing has a built in Geiger counter and a working GPS, which tells me there have to be functioning satellites in orbit. If I can get my hands on more, and send them to you, you should be able to get the data you need to have these teleporters interface with what’s already up there, right? It’s either that or you get your hands on a satellite from that side, base it off that, and we have to figure out how to get it into a stationary orbit over the Commonwealth.”

Verde hummed. “Please do find me some Pip-Boys. While I expect Samsara would be well able to manage a satellite in the end, let’s not complicate things just yet.”

“All right. I’ll get back to you, hopefully with a crate of the things. If nothing else, maybe you can come up with an updated version, one that can still interface with the door controls, but has more memory and maybe some other features. I dunno.”

“We’ll see. Now, I am going to enjoy this lovely meal, and then have some cheesecake.”

Tsuna saluted and closed the window, then tucked in.

Mukuro placed two holotapes on the table. “We picked up four and nine. Hopefully we can manage the others tomorrow, then we can get back to scrapping places.”

“Awesome,” he said, tucking the two away for the time being. “Anything out of the ordinary? For this place, anyway.”

Xeul shook his head. “The usual. Raiders, trigger-happy Gunners, super mutants, feral ghouls. We did run across one poor idiot. We decided to call him the Moonshiner. Heard an explosion, went to look. Guy had blown himself up making booze, started a fire that wiped out his little grain garden.”

He hummed. “I suppose that’s one way to go to the Great Still in the sky.”

“Hopefully not how you’ll die,” Ken joked.

Tsuna rolled his eyes. “I don’t even want to imagine what sort of hilariously stupid death it’ll be this time. Nor when. There’s far too much to be accomplished before that happens, I hope. Hopefully Verde can come up with a way to convert all the nuclear material just sitting around like it’s not a health hazard, into fusion cores or microfusion cells or something. Having a hard time seeing us getting our blacksmith on and making stainless steel containers to bury a mile down.”

“No, but we would if we had to,” Hayato said. “Maybe we should isolate one Recycler and run some through it? See what happens?”

“Preferably in a place we could put under heavy guard, add in some decontamination arches, plenty of hazmat suits ready, and a stock of Rad-X, RadAway, and stimpacks,” Sin said. “We’d need storage for the results, as well. And shipping containers. Or a likewise isolated Fabricator to handle stuff like cores and cells. Those don’t set off your Geiger counter, so they can’t be emitting much in the way of radiation.”

“We could always rip out the guts of Vault 111 and re-purpose the place,” he said. “Turn it into a small manufactory of sorts. We’d have to warn Garvey and his bunch. Have a conveyor that hauls the cores and cells through a decontamination arch, just to be on the safe side, then package them up at the other side to be stored in a central warehouse.”

“You know,” Valentine said thoughtfully, “while radiation doesn’t affect me, I never stopped to think about me affecting others, and I’ve slogged through plenty of dicey areas and radiation storms. Maybe I should be using a decontamination arch every so often, just in case. Wouldn’t want Ellie to come down sick. Sure, she can easily go see Dr Sun at the Mega Surgery Center, or Solomon at Chem-I-Care, but she shouldn’t have to.”

Tsuna nodded. “Not a bad thought. If your agency was a little bigger I’d suggest renovating the interior, to make that a reality. Well, and just make it easier for Ellie to file things. Of course, I can’t help but think of that little place in Goodneighbor, with the décor I fell in love with. I could easily see your place retrofitted with that style, a nice bed for Ellie, tuck a bathroom into the corner… Though I admit, I didn’t poke around back there. Figured it was private.”

Valentine shrugged. “You’re welcome to take a look around. I won’t stop you if you want to redecorate the place. Doesn’t seem like a priority, though.”

“No, but it’s something to think about. And we should probably set up a small structure here to step into, one with a decontamination arch we can use before entering the house.”

“We can do that once we’re done eating,” Daemon said. “Verde already gave us the plans for the arches, so…”

He nodded. “Yeah. No reason to wait on the idea.”

Shortly thereafter they were “outside” and discussing where to build the decontamination room. Straight across from the front door seemed to be the consensus, so they got started on fabricating floors and walls, the arch, and a power source, which sent Valentine into a mute tizzy.

“Yeah,” Tsuna said, on seeing the synth’s expression, “we ended up in an advanced timeline at one point. We were on a space station, which was interesting. They had these Recyclers and Fabricators, so we hunted down where they were manufactured and got enough data to Verde that he could make his own versions. We also got copies of the fabrication plans in use that’d be useful to us, so he had something to base his own off of. We used these to build the house, just to make things seem just a bit more normal.”

Within the hour they had the new structure up and powered, so they trooped back into the house to head off to bed, while Valentine wandered off to the library for the night.

According to his map, the dead drop was south of Diamond City, so they stepped into Kellogg’s place, stopped by the agency long enough for Valentine to let Ellie know he was still kicking, then started the hike south.

They ended up at Fairline Hill Estates, and there was a surprise waiting for them. Also, some yao guai.

“Seem a little too quiet to you out here?” Valentine said softly, just before one of the mutated bears came into view. “There used to be a settlement here.”

A nearby mailbox had the Railsign on it, and the holotape inside, labeled “Augusta Report”, had a voice file.

> “Augusta is still dark. Location enclosed. Exercise extreme caution.”

“All right, then,” he said. “But first, what the hell is a Vault-Tec bus doing here?”

Sin took out another yao guai as they circled the center of the area. The bus itself was empty, but on the circle was a very familiar thing. It looked almost exactly like the platform at Vault 111, and it was covered in crates. There was also a forklift and a Vault 113 control booth.

“I am too curious to ignore this,” he said. “Let’s get this cleared off.”

Shortly thereafter they had taken the lift down to the vault entrance. Like Vault 111, there was a remote access panel, so Tsuna used it to open the massive door. Inside was an entrance area—“Damn it, no Pip-Boys,” he complained—and a mostly barren excavation. A fair amount of space to build in, though. “Something to investigate later,” he decided, then turned around.

We’ve made a note of it, popped up.

“Thanks.”

The location of Augusta was quite a ways north according to his map, some distance from the C.I.T. ruins, almost due west of Bunker Hill. He sighed, because he wasn’t about to step over to C.I.T. as a shortcut. “Time for a hike, my darlings.”

Halfway there a radiation storm started, which made him shoot his eyes heavenward. “Schatz…”

“On it. Soon as we start taking damage and need some RadAway, I’ll be checking, see if I can get a handle on how to heal it myself.”

Ken stepped over a second later and nodded. “Same here. We both need to learn, and we still haven’t run into one of these storms on our end.”

“Right. Much as I hate the idea of taking damage on purpose…”

Half an hour later the storm blew itself out. Sin was shaking his head slightly. “I’m getting it, but I’m not quite there.”

“Same,” Ken said. “It’s gonna take a time or two more. I’ll get back to the others for now.”

“Thanks, Ken. See you later.”

They continued their hike, eventually arriving at what he was helpfully informed was Kendall Hospital. There were a lot of bloodbugs and ghouls around to deal with before they could find an entrance that wasn’t chained or boarded up. A piece of plywood leaning up against one of the exterior walls had a Railsign on it, with a little house representation at the center, which meant the door should be near.

Indeed, it was just around the corner. The place had been taken over by raiders, who had built a bonfire in the center of the lobby, and there were plenty of bodies merrily roasting away, presumably those of the Augusta Safehouse inhabitants.

In a desk deep in the bowels of the building was a holotape labeled “Augusta Station Last Update”, which informed them:

> “We are under attack. Repeat. We are under—my God. Listen, Augusta’s not going to make it. They’re going to be here any second. They knew exactly where we were. Tell—”

He shrugged and kept going. Tsuna remembered something vaguely once he saw the lowest level, an area they would have to jump down to. Something not nice. He jumped down to the top of a fallen cage and immediately started shooting. A deathclaw was lurking down there.

With all of them shooting it went down quick, so it wasn’t much of a problem in the end. He did have to flip the switch on a circuit breaker in order to get the maglock door out powered, but after that was opened, he looted a fusion core from a nearby generator and headed out.

Heul, we could use your assistance for a moment.

“Eh? What’s up?”

A window became visible, showing Xeul. “We found another vault while hunting down those holotapes, but of course we can’t get in. We need you and that Pip-Boy briefly.”

“All right. Um, guys, hang tight for a moment,” he said, backing up in the hospital again, just so they had some cover. “I’ll be right back.” He opened his own window on their location, so his family and Valentine could see, then stepped over to where Xeul was. He saw the remote access panel and used it to open the vault door, then took a quick look inside.

“Pip-Boys!” he crowed and promptly shifted one crate to storage and one to Sin. “Okay, um, yeah, we can find a use for this place, too. See you this evening,” he said, then shifted back over to the “courier” group.

Sin and the others were already putting Pip-Boys on, but Tsuna noticed Valentine hadn’t bothered. “Take one if you want,” he said. “Gonna see if Verde can make more anyway, and there were more crates I left behind. Maybe we can work something up so that you can get messages from Ellie on one, or bounce them back. Hm.”

“So now we have Vault 111, Vault 113, and Vault 121 we can use,” Daemon summarized.

“Well, assuming there’s no one in Vault 121,” Chikusa said. “The entrance looked really bare, though, so I expect its free for the taking. Another instance of them managing to get so far, then the bombs dropped and…”

“They’ll fill us in. Time to report to Dr Snit. Hopefully by this evening we’ll have all the tapes, and we can take a break to move ahead with the case.” He shifted the remainder of the devices to storage and headed out.

“Hey, rook. The name’s Drummer Boy,” a young man in a flat cap said as he entered HQ. “It’s my ‘envious’ job to keep track of all the dead drops and grab incoming agents and tell them where they’re needed. I don’t suppose you want to switch places?”

Tsuna smiled. “Sure. Hope you know how to use a minigun. Oh, and soak up bullets.”

“You heavies need a lot of punctuality and attention to detail, right? If so, I’m golden. Heh. We’ll be seeing each other. A lot. In any case, P.A.M. wants you. She explained why, but it didn’t make any sense to me.”

“Got it,” he said, then headed off to see what she wanted. Dr Snit could wait a few minutes.

“Confirmed,” P.A.M. said as he came down the ramp. “Agent Fixer has arrived. I have a mission for you. Without increasing efficiency of synth traffic flow, odds of entire organization being compromised increase daily. Solution: A new distribution center needs to be established.”

“Details?”

“Pacify the target location. Fortify position to protect current and future Railroad assets. New distribution center will be codenamed ‘Mercer Safehouse’. Good luck.” A holotape was handed over, and he checked it as he walked back out. The target was Coastal Cottage, fairly far north, on the coast.

“Augusta Safehouse was destroyed by the Institute,” he told Dr Snit. “What was left was overrun by raiders.”

“It’s as I feared. Three safehouses gone. Hard to imagine. I have nothing further for you at the moment. I’m sure someone else could use your help, no shortage of fires to be put out.”

“Looks like we’re building a mini-settlement, then. Let’s plow.”

Over dinner the remainder of the holotapes were produced, so the entire batch was handed over to Valentine.

“No foolin’,” Valentine responded. “Well, that’s some real solid detective work. They’re older than dirt, but they’ve got Eddie’s pawprints all over them. These are the real deal. And they’ve still got the code pieces in ’em. Let me run ’em through the old processor.”

Tsuna looked down, because he honestly did not want to know how Valentine was going to “run ’em through”, but looked back up when Valentine spoke again.

“Got it! One, nine, five, three, seven, two, eight, four, zero, six. That old thug’s holed up in Andrew Station. Let’s bring Eddie Winter down.”

“First thing,” he promised, then glanced at the scrap crew.

Xeul obligingly nodded. “I’ll give you the visual at breakfast, so at least it’ll be light out.”

“Sure. Should probably see if Verde has anything in the way of night vision or thermal, though. Which reminds me.” He shifted that crate of Pip-Boys in and opened a window, taking a moment to shift a portion of dinner over once he saw Verde was busy tapping away on his computer.

The scent alerted him to the intrusion, so he stood up and turned around. “News?”

“Yep! Aside from dinner, I have Pip-Boys for you to tinker with,” he said, shifting the crate over. “Should be ten of them in there. Hopefully that’ll give you the reference you need for the teleporters, and maybe you can bring them up to what we’d consider modern times, without losing any functionality. Also, do you have anything in the way of night vision or thermal goggles on hand?”

“No, but I can work up a fabrication plan to share.”

“Awesome. We’ll check back later, as usual.”

“I look forward to it.”

Tsuna closed the window and resumed eating.

“I gotta say, that’s pretty handy,” Valentine commented.

“It’s of exceptional use,” Daemon said, “but Heul is the only one of us who can open windows like that, to other dimensions. Or choose _when_ it opens to when he does so. We can work through them, just not open that kind. We can only do it locally. And Heul, the absolute darling, is the one who figured out how to make them in the first place.”

“And how to step places. Even how this place got created,” Sin added.

“It still doesn’t make much sense.”

Tsuna shrugged. “I don’t even pretend to understand. I just know that in one life I really, really wanted to be able to use the space between molecules, for storage if nothing else, or to travel through. Kinda sci-fi, but… I tried opening a window on a whim one day, to a previous dimension, and it worked. I may have been forced to leave a lot of people behind, but I can still communicate with some of them, and we can shift goods back and forth as necessary.”

“Thank kami,” Mukuro said. “I would hate to have to eat what’s available locally.”

“I’m not sure even I could do anything of value with radroaches, molerats, and whatnot. Tatos are an abomination, I’m not sure what mutfruit used to be, and while gourds, melons, and corn might be relatively normal, I’d rather not risk it.”

“I prefer my beef to come from a non-mutated cow,” Ken said.

“All right. To recap. At breakfast I’ll get the visual, then we go to Andrew Station and take care of that issue. After that we can go see about setting up that safehouse for the Railroad and reporting back in. I’m sure there’ll be more to do by the time we get back.”

Andrew Station was infested with raiders. What a shock.

“We survive this, I owe you a stiff drink,” Valentine said as he fired on a raider on the roof of the station. “Let’s not keep Eddie waiting,” he added once they were cleared out and they entered the doors to the underground portion.

Which was also infested with raiders.

Eddie Winter’s bunker was quite a ways in, through a break in the subway tunnel wall, past a makeshift boxing ring, and in a dark alcove off to the side of the “main” path. 

“That filthy toad’s right on the other side of that door,” Valentine said. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Tsuna dredged the code out of memory and tapped it into the keypad there (as he certainly did not have a keycard to use instead), and the door popped open obligingly.

“The fuck?” he heard from inside.

Tsuna entered to see a ghoul dressed like he was an elder snowbird on _Miami Vice_.

“Who the fuck are you?” Winter asked.

“Eddie! It’s me! Your old pal Seamus McFuckYourself!” he cried happily, complete with an accent borrowed from Seamus at Hogwarts.

Winter growled. “All this time, and the first person to walk through my door is a wise-ass. Why couldn’t you have been a sexy blonde? Wait, no… No way. Not after all this time. Don’t tell me you actually cracked my code? In the holotapes?”

Then he laughed as if it was the best joke in the world. “Well hey, it’s only been … what? Two hundred years?” Winter laughed again. “Well look… I’m not sure what you thought you’d find—gold, jewels, the secret of the universe—but you get me. One guy. A ‘ghoul’, I guess you’d call me. Just living. Surviving. And what I got, you can’t have. That code… It was a joke. I just wanted to prove how dumb those feds were. Turns out, pretty dumb. So take your asses someplace else.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I get what I came for,” Valentine said.

“Yeah?” Winter said, puzzled. “And what’s that? And who are you, huh? You look kinda familiar. But … what are you, some kind of robot? Is that what it’s like out there now? A world of robot overlords? I knew it.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes as Valentine said, “The name’s Valentine. Nick Valentine. Remember me?”

“Valentine? The cop? Is that who you’re supposed to be? Sorry, pal, but you ain’t Nick Valentine. You’re just some kind of … machine.”

“You killed my fiancée. Jennifer Lands. There are some crimes even you can’t get away with, Winter.”

“Your fiancée? You mean Valentine’s fiancée? Pretty girl. A shame what happened to her.” Winter’s mood turned from puzzled to angry to puzzled again, though Tsuna wondered how much of it was a sham. “But hey, you … or, you know … the real Valentine. He shoulda backed off when he had the chance. But what gives, robot man? Why do you even care? Some girl gets whacked two hundred years ago, and you come into my home, acting the hard guy? Christ, look at you. You’re not even alive.”

“Then I guess I’m in good company,” Valentine said dispassionately, then lasered the guy practically point blank.

Eddie went down, gasping, “Not … yet…”

“We’re done here,” Valentine said. “But there’s one more thing I’ve got to do. I… I wouldn’t mind the company, if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course,” he said quietly, then followed him out.

Around the corner, up some stairs, through another tortured tunnel of sorts between brick walls, like a twisty underground alley, and into the basement of a Joe’s Spuckies, where more raiders awaited. It looked like an old-timey speakeasy down there.

All that was missing was the bathtub to make gin in, and he found one of those behind a maglock door, along with a chem station. Up the stairs, through the shop, and over to the river, was Valentine’s destination.

“This is it. In this spot, two hundred years ago, one of Eddie’s boys gunned down Jenny Lands, my fiancée… Nick’s fiancée. Now Eddie’s as dead as Jenny and Nick. And I… I’m at a loss. All I know is that, without you, Eddie’d still be at large.”

“Taking down Winter was a big deal. Are you doing all right?”

“I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in. Winter was it, the only reminder left of the original Nick Valentine. The last proof outside of some long lost Institute archive I was ever just a mechanical copy of some cop from a bygone era. I’m not sure how to feel.”

Feeling ever so slightly tweaked by the Poor Me routine, he chose to say, “Does it really matter? Winter, Jenny, Nick. They’re gone. We’re here. We get to make the world what we want.”

“…You’re right. It just took me until now to realize it. Because I ‘was’ Nick Valentine. I had his memories. His … his fears. All that poor bastard’s hope. I remember getting the call to head to some lab in Cambridge to get that neurotrans-whatever. And the next thing I know, I’m in a trash heap. My family, my home, my entire life, gone. Then I discover, all those things, that … they weren’t even mine. Everything I ever was belonged to Nick.

“I’d hoped with Winter gone, the last hint of that old world snuffed out, I could … I could finally be free. But being out here with you, what I … what I finally realized after all this time was that taking down Winter, it wasn’t about Nick or Jenny or even you or me. It was about justice, about doing what’s right. And that act of goodness, that’s ours. All the good we’ve done, that’s ours and ours alone.

“And even if that’s the only thing in this world I can ever claim as mine, not Nick’s, not the Institute’s, but mine, then I can die happy. And none of it would have ever happened if it weren’t for you. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to thank you for that.”

Tsuna scoffed. “You can thank me by continuing to be a good person. Besides, we’re friends, right? This is what friends do, help each other.”

Valentine looked down for a moment, then chuckled. “You can’t stop being noble, now can you? Well, come on. We’re not helping anyone standing around here.”

Tsuna was honestly surprised to get a messagebox in front of his face: Having reached the highest level of affinity with Nick, you have gained the “Close to Metal” perk.

“That is, if you’re … if you’re still interested in traveling together. I wouldn’t blame ya if you wanted some time on your own after all this.”

Tsuna shook his head. “Don’t be silly. We have a baby settlement to build.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Now we just need to hike halfway across the Commonwealth,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Step over to Vault 121, then.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. We’ll do that. Let’s step back into that sandwich shop briefly, so we’re out of sight.”

Unable to resist having more of a look, since the previous time he was there all of thirty seconds, Tsuna ventured deeper into the entrance area and was surprised that it was a great, yawning chasm in three directions. “The hell? They built the entrance, and then … nothing? It’d be like stepping off a cliff.”

It’s around ten stories beneath, another four above? Approximately. So around fifteen total.

“Kami-sama,” he breathed. “Right, sure. Okay, then, let’s mosey. We can make use of this place later. Say, now that everyone has Pip-Boys _and_ can step in, I’m going to close the door.”

Noted.

They set off through the subway station that fronted the entrance, because Tsuna still had to see the outside to be able to step to it, and once he had he went right back in. There was an access platform off to the side, rather like the one in Vault 111, he could use to button things up. It did make him wonder if he could do the same from the ones outside, but the very bit about “remote access”…

Back up top a minute later, he consulted his map. They could cut across on the diagonal, but he seemed to recall there were two settlements along the way. Perhaps they could just skirt the edges, getting a visualization, and continue on with their actual mission, rather than delaying it more.

Mind made up, he nodded. “Hike time.”

They arrived about an hour later, having passed Greentop Nursery, the Slog, and a quarry, Dunwich Borers. And saved a traveling doctor from a deathclaw. The first thing he noticed, cresting a rise and looking over the edge of a cliff, was a massive mirelurk, a queen, off in the distance, over by a factory. She had a few crabby friends with her.

He resisted the temptation to call out, “I’ll make crabby patties outta ya!” and instead started shooting. Shortly thereafter they were up the next hill and to the cottage, which was a wreck. It boasted one raider and a handful of glowing mirelurks, and then Tsuna was able to check the workbench.

“What a mess,” Sin said, gazing around.

“How are we going to turn this into a cozy little settlement?” Daemon said.

“We’re going to scrap everything,” he said. “Those mirelurks came up, so I bet there’s a hollow down there. If so, we could dig out a proper cellar. It wouldn’t be easy, but… It’d provide a hiding place for any residents, like a panic room.”

“It’s out of the way,” Chikusa said, “which is a bonus in some ways. But to get residents this far out?” He shook his head. “Not our decision, I suppose. We weren’t the ones to pick this place.”

“Either way, first, let’s eat something. I’m feeling a bit peckish, and I don’t feel like digging on an empty stomach.” He fetched water, a cloth, and a bento from his pack, cleaned up a bit, and settled in to eat.

Two days later they had not only dug out a decent-sized cellar (they cheated with Earth Flames to help with the heavy lifting) and lined it with rigid foam insulation and concrete slabs that were sealed together, but had built a modest little house on top that looked entirely innocent. Valentine just shook his head at blatant evidence of more “weirdness” and kept his mouth shut on whatever he might be thinking.

A little building off the back held the batteries for the solar panels, and turrets were along the sides on stands affixed to the walls. A staircase led down to the cellar, ostensibly for food storage, but one of the shelving units could be swung open to reveal beds for any “packages”, a shower room, WC, and various other amenities.

A little greenhouse was off to the side outside, and a water purifier, and the whole thing was enclosed in a white picket fence, just to be sarcastic about the situation, with a matching white gate.

“I think we’ve done more than enough,” he said after eyeing everything. Instructions for the hydroponics had been left in the greenhouse, as well as notes on the purifier. The caretaker of the place was going to have to figure out the secret room on their own, or send a roundabout request to HQ about where they’d be storing their packages.

“Let’s get to a sheltered spot that isn’t here and step over to our next destination.”

Shortly thereafter they were in Kellogg’s abandoned house and exiting to stop in at the agency. After exchanging greetings and while letting Valentine play catch up with Ellie, he noticed a case file on the desk and cocked his head.

“Oh, that,” Ellie said. “Yeah, a case came in. Earl Sterling. Apparently Earl just up and disappeared. No one’s seen him since…”

“So what’s your take on the case, Ellie?” Valentine asked.

She frowned thoughtfully. “On Earl? Well, he didn’t have any enemies, that’s for sure. Someone would have to notice you’re alive first.”

“And Earl didn’t exactly have the charisma to inspire any crimes of passion. So what’s that leave us?”

“I don’t know, Nick. It can’t be the Institute … right?”

Valentine hummed. “Guess we’ll just have to see.”

Tsuna opened the case file and read through it.

> #### CASE: Earl Sterling’s Disappearance  
>  Client: Vadim Bobrov
> 
> Another disappearing act to unravel. Earl Sterling. Twenty-five year-old bartender at the Dugout Inn. One of the owners, Vadim Bobrov, noticed that Earl hadn’t been into work for a few days.
> 
> Security was called in. No investigation, of course. “The Institute took him” is the unofficial word about town. Like always.
> 
> Vadim came into the office, half-drunk, with a sob story about how he and Earl went way back, and that he just can’t believe that Earl would get snatched up by the boogeyman.
> 
> Earl didn’t have any enemies, at least none with motive enough to kill him. Not living with anyone, either. Reminder to self about asking Vadim if he or someone else at the Dugout has a copy of his keys.

Keys were never a problem when Samsara was involved. “Right. Well, if you’re up for it, Valentine, let’s do this. I think we can take the time, and it is your kinda thing.”

Valentine nodded, looking pleased. He led the way to Sterling’s shithole and Sin quietly picked the lock so they could slip inside. 

“I’ll start in here,” Valentine said. “Why don’t you check out the living room? Must be some hint where that boy ran off to. You know, for all the talk, I’d put the chances of this being an Institute snatch job somewhere between zero and none. Just think about it. Earl Sterling, _assistant_ bartender. Why not nab the bartender himself?

“Lord knows Vadim samples his own wares enough that some weird behavior wouldn’t make anyone bat an eyelash. And Earl had lousy people skills. Might score the Institute some points in the ‘last person you’d ever suspect’ category, but why not snatch someone with charm. Someone who could get you what you want?

“Earl could barely get you a drink by closing on a busy night. So where’s that leave us? No known enemies. Wasn’t much for the great outdoors, so likely not raiders or mutants. No, this all screams accident. Now, what was Earl into that might’ve gotten him into this kinda trouble?”

Over by the couch, on the floor to one side, was a receipt from Mega Surgery Center.

> #### MEGA SURGERY CENTER  
>   
>  Dr Crocker - Resident Surgeon  
>  1x Reconstruction Surgery - Facial  
>  Procedure to be performed upon clearance of final installment payment.  
>  Patient: Sterling, Earl

“A receipt from the Mega Surgery Center, huh? Wonder what the good doctors have to say about that,” Valentine said.

“I agree. This could be as simple as Sterling getting his face changed and bailing, but then again…”

Dr Sun was brusque, with an air that said he assumed Tsuna was an idiot who could barely tie his own laces and was in desperate need of medical attention. When asked to list his symptoms he shook his head and held up the receipt.

“Let me see. Hmm… This is Dr Crocker’s deplorable handwriting, all right. Looks like Earl Sterling was one of his patients. The procedure noted here is mundane. Low-risk cosmetic work. Dr Crocker never performed it, however, said Earl vanished before he paid. Now, I really don’t have time to deal with complaints or refunds right now. Did you need medical attention or not?”

“And the blood all over the floor, leading to that hatch back there?” he pressed.

“This is a medical facility,” Sun said, frowning heavily. “It’s not unusual for there to be some blood here or there. My partner must have forgotten to clean up.”

“And where is he now, do you know?”

“Last time I saw him, he had to get something out of the surgery cellar. Probably just had to wash some needles or move some storage around. I’m a doctor, not a secretary. I’m sure he’ll be around eventually.”

Tsuna nodded. “Well, we’re investigating a missing person, one Earl Sterling, and I think the trail leads to your basement.”

“You can’t honestly think—you know what, fine. If it’ll put the matter to rest. Here,” Sun said, handing over a key. “Go see for yourself. But if I find one instrument out of place, you’ll be getting the bill.”

“Thank you, Dr Sun.” Tsuna slipped past the man and went over to the hatch, keyed open the lock, and pulled it open.

In the “cellar” (it was, in truth, more like a bare hole dug out of plain earth) was Dr Crocker, and he seemed just a bit unhinged. There was also a mostly naked body back there he could see, missing its legs, arms, and head.

“Oh, Earl. You’ve … you’ve really been a handful, you know? But I think we’re just about done. Our little mistake is finally going to be … corrected.” Crocker noticed them standing there and adopted a surprised look. “Oh, naughty, naughty! You’re not supposed to be down here! But that’s okay. I can fix that. I can fix anything.”

“Take it easy, Dr Crocker,” he said soothingly. “Let’s talk. About Earl.”

“I didn’t mean to do it! You have to believe me,” Crocker said in a voice a few fries short of a Happy Meal. “Doc Crocker is a brilliant surgeon. No one dies under his care! No one dies! They just walk away happy. Happy with my work. Happy with their new face! Not screaming. Not bleeding out on the floor. Earl, he … he just didn’t want to be happy. That must have been it.” He nodded decisively.

“Yeah, you’ve fixed things all right. Fixed yourself for some time in a Diamond City jail cell.”

“Jail cell?” Crocker produced a gun from his lab coat. “You don’t get it, do you? Doc Crocker isn’t going to jail. He’s going to go back to his surgery, where people love him.” He waved the gun around before aiming it vaguely in Tsuna’s direction. “And they love him because Doc Crocker never loses patients. He just makes people happy.”

“You’ve killed a man, doctor. You didn’t mean to do it, but you are going to do time for it. That’s how it works. Put the gun down, and come with me.”

Crocker’s gun hand wavered and he hunched over, his expression going from psychotic to disgusted. “I… I did it, didn’t I? I killed a man. Oh god. There’s so much blood. So much blood all over me! There’s only one thing that will make this all better.” His free hand dove into his lab coat, pulled out a syringe, and he jammed it in to himself.

As he died he managed to say, “I can fix … anything.”

Sun chose that moment to climb down the ladder, then stared in disbelief. “What’s going on here? Is … is that a … body? I think you owe me an explanation. What happened here?”

“Crocker killed Sterling during his surgery, then he tried to hide it. He threatened to kill me.”

“Dr Crocker killed Earl? The … the facial reconstruction… So he really _did_ go through with it… That explains a lot more than I’m comfortable with. Dr Crocker always cared about his reputation, but this … this is inhuman…”

“You let this happen, Dr Sun. You could’ve stopped this.”

Sun dropped his gaze. “You’re … you’re right. I should’ve known Dr Crocker wasn’t in any condition to continue practicing medicine. I should’ve known he killed Earl. Please, just go. I’ll send the report to security, and … clean up this mess.”

Back at the agency Ellie looked up on their arrival and said, “So, you find out where Earl Sterling ran off to?”

“We found him all right,” Valentine said flatly.

“Earl never went anywhere. Dr Crocker killed him during a botched surgery.”

“Crocker killed Earl? Gone as long as he was, I figured maybe raiders or the Institute, but Crocker? Where’s the doc now? Rotting in a cell, I hope.”

He shook his head. “Crocker killed himself. He couldn’t take the guilt.”

“Goodness. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Ellie shook her head. “Here. Take this. Sounds like you earned it.”

Tsuna accepted the caps without comment and tucked them away.

“I’ll send word along, let everyone down at the Dugout Inn know what happened. Shame it couldn’t be better news. Thanks again, for closing this one out.”

“Let’s go turn in that request,” he said quietly. “Take care, Ellie.”

“You, too,” she said.

“Carrington wants a word,” Drummer Boy informed him when they entered HQ.

Instead of speaking with him, Tsuna headed back to where P.A.M. was.

“Setting human/machine interface to 100%. Good evening, agent. My data indicates Mercer Safehouse has been established. Reward dispensed. Further help is required. I have the location of a black ops cache. It contains supplies our organization needs. Railroad-Alpha has asked for you to secure the cache from any hostiles in its vicinity.”

“Details on the mission?”

“The cache is hidden in compliance with Tactical Counter-Surveillance Protocols. Location of cache being transmitted to your Pip-Boy. This RFID device will locate and unlock the cache upon close proximity. You only have to secure the cache. Runners will transport contents on a separate timetable. Terminating human/machine interface.”

He nodded and headed back up the ramp to see what Dr Snit wanted.

“Ah, good, you’re here. There’s been a development. A raider gang has captured one of our agents, code-named Blackbird. The twist is we thought he was already killed … at Augusta Safehouse. Desdemona clings to the far-fetched hope that (a) Blackbird is alive. And (b) he can tell us what happened to the synths held at Augusta when it fell. So she wants you to tackle this fool’s errand.”

“Give me the details. If Blackbird’s alive, I’ll bring them back. Otherwise…”

“The dead drop has the full briefing. Raiders aren’t known for keeping their captives alive. But, since you’re risking your neck, good luck.”


	6. λ34: 06: Commonwealth

## λ34  
06: Commonwealth  
“You can’t nuke an omelet without irradiating some eggs.”

“I could use a break,” he said as they emerged into the destroyed building that served as an exit. “But a person may or may not be alive still. My … gut … says they aren’t. So, a break.”

“No objections here,” Daemon said.

After a moment of silence he gestured for Valentine’s arm, then stepped them to the decontamination room. By the time his bunch was assembled in the house, they all were, as Xeul’s group had decided to come in early as well.

Ten minutes later, after everyone had washed off the filth, they were debating what to eat.

“It’s a bit strange,” Valentine said, “how any number of people don’t even seem to see your family members at times.”

He broke out of his thoughts to nod. “I noticed that, too. It is strange, but I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing. I mean, the Railroad is pretty paranoid, but they just glossed right over the fact that it wasn’t just me they let into their HQ. I expect… Well, things will be weird once we figure out how to get into the Institute. It’s teleportation, but… I don’t really see all of us managing to do that.”

“When are you going to move on that again?”

“I planned to help put out a few more fires for the Railroad first. I wanted an idea of what kind of people they really are, you know? Not just take it on faith that they’re good people doing good things, even though I’m pretty sure they are. Get a few things out of the way, and then we really need to suit up and brave the Glowing Sea, either the normal way or by cheating.”

“All in favor of cheating?” Ken asked.

“Motion carried,” Daemon said, though he was looking at his twin when he said it.

“Yes, yes, we will get a visual so that when the time comes, Heul will barely take any damage at all. You do realize, though, that if this man escaped the Institute, probably expecting to be hunted, he might not take it well to have a group knocking on his door.”

“So some of us _Edge_ ,” Sin said. “The best person to be visible might be Valentine, but even that might backfire. Depends on how paranoid and suspicious Virgil is.”

“Hot wings,” Hayato said suddenly.

Tsuna blinked, then nodded. “Any objections?”

“Amazing how I have a sudden craving for hot wings myself,” Mukuro said.

“I’ll take that as a no and get started,” he said, then got up. For a side… He set the oven to 425ºF to heat, then got some potatoes out of storage, gave them a scrubbing, and set them aside for the moment. A cutting board was produced, a sharp knife, and he set to slicing the potatoes into half-inch rounds.

Once that was done he grabbed a couple of baking sheets, covered them in foil, crimped up the edges, and brushed butter over it all. The rounds went onto the sheets, were in turn generously buttered, and into the oven they went. A timer was set for thirty-five minutes.

The sauce was next on his list, then set aside for the final step of the chicken.

“Right. We have a bit of time before the next bit,” he said, then made a pot of tea. It seemed like it had been forever since he’d had tea. Shortly thereafter he was enjoying a cup of oolong.

“After spending so many evenings here,” Valentine said, “I wish I could eat. Your cooking smells wonderful.”

Tsuna beamed at him. “I wish you could eat! I love cooking for my family and friends. I suppose that’d be an advantage of being a Gen-3, the whole sleeping and eating bit. Well, okay, not eating food in a post-apocalyptic scenario, since what I’ve seen so far gives me the willies, but…”

Valentine hummed. “Half the attraction is that you’re making meals with foods I remember thanks to before. It does make me wistful, and nostalgic.”

“Well, half the taste of food is caught up in a person’s sense of smell. Nothing ever tastes quite right if you have a stuffed up nose.”

“Not that we generally have to worry about that,” Chikusa said. “Thankfully. I remember being sick, a long, long time ago. I’d rather not experience it again, if possible.”

Daemon nodded. “I can’t remember the last time I fell sick.”

Sin shook his head. “And I don’t think Heul’s been sick a day in his life—lives. Except for that one specific instance.”

He looked down. “I can’t remember any times aside from skullitis, but…” He shrugged and got up, so he could start the next part. The timer went off a second later. Tsuna checked the rounds, saw that they looked nice and golden, and pulled the trays out long enough to flip all the rounds over. The trays got shoved back in for another ten minutes.

“I’ll need some crumbled bacon, shredded cheese, and chopped green onions,” he said as he shifted the monster deep fryer to the counter—the one filled with peanut oil—and acquired some drumsticks. He set the oil to heating. One advantage of using magic was that things heated far more quickly.

Ken and Sin both hopped up to assist, with Ken grabbing a cutting board and a shredder, and Sin some bacon to fry up. Xeul got up to source sour cream and portion some out into bowls for each person, then shuffled it all to the table. Mukuro lazily shifted a stack of paper napkins in and set a bunch at each seat.

Fifteen minutes later they were all seated, ready to get messy. The wings were crispy and tender, the sauce drippy, and the cheese on the potato rounds was nicely melted, helping the bacon and green onion to stick.

Tsuna took a moment to drop puffs of sour cream on his rounds before taking up a hot wing and dragging it through the bowl.

Valentine sighed.

They took the subway to Malden, exited, and made a quarter-turn right. Down the road he could see a number of super mutants duking it out with synths. They trundled past the police station, paused to shoot anything that survived, then continued on to Medford Memorial Hospital. The spikes and meatbags were a clue that they would find more super mutants inside.

It took them three hours of hearing things like, “Here, human, human, human, I got a treat for you!” and “Wish a buckethead would show up… I’d rip his legs clean off…” before they found the DIA Cache, and that was largely due to the sheer number of super mutants inside.

In theory, the more they took out, the fewer there would be. Right?

Medford had quite a few fusion generators, as well. Potentially something to acquire, if only so Verde could break them down and make plans for them.

They trotted off to the southwest for Dr Snit’s job, back to Lexington. The dead drop was in a mailbox outside the Super-Duper Mart. The holotape, titled “Blackbird Report”, informed him that:

> “Blackbird spotted. Badly injured. Way too many hostiles for the runner to engage. Request assistance from HQ.”

The actual location was out in East Boston, at Easy City Downs. There was a combination of raiders and Triggermen hanging out, having converted the place to a racetrack for reprogrammed robots rather than the original horses. An Eyebot, a Mr Handy, a Mr Gutsy, and an Assaultron, specifically. The Assaultron was pathetically slow, for some reason.

Agent Blackbird’s corpse was found draped over a large chest. The note on the body read:

> Augusta overrun. Two Coursers, unknown number of old-models. I’m the only survivor. They came straight at us, knew our location. Package’s fate is unknown. If I don’t make it out, make them pay. —BB

“The survivor from Augusta, Blackbird, is dead. I didn’t find any evidence of where the synth is,” he informed Dr Snit.

“As I expected. Well, at least you weren’t hurt. Perhaps Desdemona will listen next time. Hopefully this will help in your future missions. Now if you don’t mind.” Dr Snit handed over some caps, a plasma gun, and some ammunition.

To P.A.M. he said, “You can send a runner to the DIA Cache.”

“Enabling machine/human interface. That’s great, agent. Those provisions will really help Organization Railroad. Here’s your reward. Have a good day.” It was like listening to something out of _The Stepford Wives_. He was handed more caps and a Covert Sweater Vest, and the RFID Device was taken.

‘That should mean the cache I just did was ballistic weave? Hopefully? But first, time to quit for the day.’

“P.A.M. wants you,” Drummer Boy greeted him with. “She explained why, but…”

He nodded and headed into the back room to hear, “Calculating. Institute presence increases odds of detection of all northern routes by fifty-two percent.”

Desdemona and Dr Snit were standing there, listening intently. Tsuna found it inappropriately hilarious that he had just established a safehouse up north, and now northern routes were not a wise choice.

“Fifty-two percent?” Dr Snit said. “That’s prohibitively dangerous.”

“Fixer,” Desdemona said. “How do you feel about getting thrown back into the fire?”

“I’m on a first name basis with fire,” he replied, inwardly chortling about the inside joke.

“You’re in the right line of work, then. We’ve hit a snag with Dr Amari. You haven’t met her. She works in Goodneighbor and she plays a vital role in our organization. Synths are supposed to go to the Memory Den, the doctor gives them a new set of memories, then they move out. But her latest patient is stuck there. The runner’s route has been compromised and we’re looking for options.”

‘So Stockton got H2 to High Rise, who shuffled him over to Goodneighbor, and then another runner…?’ He didn’t see the point in correcting her assumption, and to not sound like he was completely uncaring he asked, “Why do synths get new memories?”

“The mind job is voluntary,” Desdemona said (though if things held true, they were highly encouraged to get it done). “Each synth has his or her own reasons for opting in. Most do it to avoid being captured. A synth knows nothing about our world. There’s dozens of ways they could slip up and draw attention to themselves.” She turned back and asked, “P.A.M., what if we reroute through Lexington?”

“The Switchboard is a nexus of Institute activity. Odds of detection increase exponentially with proximity to the nexus.”

“In English, P.A.M.”

“She means,” Dr Snit said condescendingly, “we can’t run ops anywhere near Switchboard. The Gen-1s blocking the original route have to go.” He then stared at Tsuna as if expecting a response.

“…I think the doctor’s right.”

“You see, even he agrees with me.”

“Enough. We do it your way, then. Go to Dr Amari and tell her re-routing isn’t possible. You’re there to clear the route for one last run. There’s a lot at stake here, so get the job done.”

“On it.”

“Kami-sama,” he breathed, then pushed through the doors of the Memory Den, to the back, then downstairs. “Dr Amari.”

“You’re the contact H2-22 was talking about? Just when I thought one person could only experience so much danger in their life…”

‘You have no idea, lady.’

“The patient is resting right now. Were you hoping to say good-bye? I don’t advise it. He’s far past remembering anything about his … old life…”

“I didn’t really expect to get a chance.”

“Well, what’s the plan for getting H2 out of here?”

“We have to use the original route. There’s no other way.”

“That’s the plan? I thought you people valued discretion.” Amari sighed. “But, fine. I won’t argue. The Malden Metro Center is where you need to go. All the Gen-1s there need to be gone, understand? All of them. I’m leaving H2-22, and his future, in your hands. Once he’s gone, we never had this conversation. He was never here. Before you leave… Take the holotape on the table. It’s a personal message. For your ears only.”

The table was not one in the room, which would have been logical, even sensible. It was the round table upstairs, next to a terminal (presumably also Amari’s). It was labeled “Good-bye from H2-22”.

He waited until they were on the subway toward Malden to listen to the holotape.

> “The doctor said I could say good-bye. I’ve decided … to have the operation. I know I’ll lose all my memories. I don’t want you to be sad. I… I have nightmares. And this world, the SRB, being hunted, I just can’t handle it. Everyone says I’ll be safer if I start a new life. I know I’ll be happier. My only regret is I’ll forget… Old Man Stockton. High Rise. And you. Looking back, there’s only fear. Worse than fear. But I will miss my new … friends.”
> 
> “It’s time, H2,” came Amari’s voice.
> 
> “I… Uh… Thanks.”

The odd thing was that H2 still had the same face. He had been “resting” on the sofa downstairs, and probably thought the whole conversation between him and Amari was hopelessly confusing. Sadly, Tsuna _could_ understand giving the escaped synths new memories for a new life, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but think it was just another type of death. Get born, become self-aware, run, and “die” so some new person could take your place, with a face you wouldn’t recognize in the mirror.

At the same time it angered him. Human beings had to face fear and hardship every day. They didn’t always react well, and some went off the deep end, but… To just wipe it all away, it was cowardly. It was suicide.

And those same synths… Gen-3s didn’t age, so at some point someone was going to notice, and with new memories, they would be blindsided by that knowledge, assuming they lived long enough for the thought to go through their head before a bullet did.

Glory was just about to enter Malden Center Station when they rolled up, which occasioned a chuckle out of her. “Wait. We got assigned the same damned job? With all our ‘compartmentalization’ bullshit—this sort of shit happens. You got the job from the Goodneighbor side, I got it from Griswold Safehouse. Well, since we’re both here, what do you say the two heavies join forces and rock the heavens a little? Been wanting to see you in action with my own eyes.”

“Hey, let’s do this.”

“You lead the way, my friend.”

Inside she said, “My Griswold boys gave me nothing about this place. All I know is, ‘Malden Center’s hot.’ ”

“Hot with Gen-1s or 2s, I’m afraid,” he said. “The Institute made the place.” He had barely gotten down the stairs—or a non-working escalator—when he saw two Gen-2s patrolling around farther in. It probably explained the raider corpses he could see.

“Aw, hell. Man, if it’s got to be done…”

“Is someone present?”

Tsuna rolled his eyes. “I dunno,” he muttered, “did the sound of gunfire give it away?”

“You are one ass-kicking machine,” Glory complimented.

He shot her a quick smile, not the least bit willing to explain his intuition cheat.

“I almost feel sorry for the bastards. Almost.”

After having to backtrack for a synth on the wrong side of the wall, all the way down the tunnel to the blocked-off end, and blowing its head off, Glory said, “I always get lost in these places. Why can’t the bad guys be in one place? Clustered together real tight. Boom.”

“Well, it would make it simpler to toss a frag grenade and knock them over like bowling pins.”

He almost laughed out loud as he approached the next set, after looting several dead raiders, when he heard a synth say, “I am the victim of violence.”

Around the corner, through a break in the wall, was a war going on, synth against raider. It was easy enough for them to pick them off in the confusion.

“I think we may have missed the last train for a while,” Valentine quipped as he scanned the area looking for anyone in hiding.

Tsuna snorted and looked at Glory. “I think that was all of them. Raiders, too. I’ll report back on my side.”

The exit brought them back to the beginning, with just a chained door in the way of leaving by the entrance. “See you around, Glory.”

She nodded and waved, then loped off.

“I think, after that, it’s time for lunch,” he decided.

“The route’s been cleared. H2-22 is safe to move,” he informed Desdemona.

“I know,” she said dryly. “I already got an earful from Glory about Malden. Operational security is worth the occasional crossed wire. Anyway, Amari reports H2-22 made it out safely.”

‘There must have been a door I missed in there somewhere, because I’m not sure what other exit there could have been to move him through.’

“The crisis is over for now. Take this. You’ve earned it.” She handed over caps and a couple of Stealth Boys.

He noticed Tinker Tom—the headgear was unmistakable—and went over to see what he had for sale.

“The sensor sweep says you’re clean. Hurray, we’re bug free.”

“I went through a sensor sweep?”

“Every test Dez would let me run.”

In the background he could see a list of safehouses and agents on a blackboard. Fixer was the last name in the list. Glory and Deacon were on it, but Tommy W was lined out.

“Full EMF scan, biological sniffers, and our other ‘state of the art’ security. So the sweep says the Institute isn’t watching you—or us—but the tests lie, man. OK, have you eaten anything out there? Because if you have they got you!”

His mouth twitched. “No, I never eat anything,” he said straight-faced.

“You see, that’s smart. That’s smart, man. S M A R T. But you got to be careful. The Institute has these tiny microscopic robots in the food, man. And they report back.”

“Tom, that’s rubbish,” Dr Snit interjected.

“You just don’t get it, Carrington. The Institute is in your blood!”

“…That’s a lot to process.”

“Please, don’t believe a word of this bollocks.”

Tsuna shot him a subtle wink as Tom said, “OK, OK. If you want to be really safe, let me give you a little shot. Dez—Desdemona—says no one has to, but it will kill those little robots.”

“There’s battery acid in that serum of yours,” Dr Snit objected, rightfully.

“You can’t nuke an omelet without irradiating some eggs. You ready to shoot up?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Fine,” Tom whined. “Let them hear and see everything. OK, OK. I hope you like your whole life being downloaded to the Institute’s mainframe.”

Tsuna smiled serenely. “Actually, I dose myself with radiation to kill the bloodbots.”

“I read you, man. Smart. I’d rather have some hair loss than let the Institute win. You, you get it, man. I make things around here. You go and do—do whatever—and come back and I will set you up.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Make yourself comfortable and prepare to be astounded.”

He picked up a few things, taking note that of the safehouses listed, Allen, Augusta, and Herkimer were all lined out. Dayton, Griswold, Stanwix, Ticonderoga, and Mercer were fine. Randolph had a question mark after it.

“I was just power napping and whammo, it hit me. Got some ideas on how to kit out Deliverer,” Tom added. “Make your super-bad-ass gun even more … well, more. So check out my stock.”

‘But I just did…? He did have armored clothing, though, so…’ “Next time.”

Drummer Boy kept following him around like a lost puppy, which was becoming off-putting, so he went to see if P.A.M. had anything new.

“Greetings. Data model indicates a ninety-three percent chance of another DIA cache being available for exploitation. Location of cache being transmitted to your Pip-Boy. Conversation terminated.” P.A.M. shoved another RFID Device at him, so he took it and headed back up the ramp.

His map showed he would be headed to HUB 360, which was a pain in the game, if only because he always had trouble remembering the simplest way to get to the door he needed. He generally ended up on the roof and sliding down the side of the building, but he knew there was a staircase that led straight to it, from the outside. It was a quick in and out using that.

Unfortunately, Tinker Tom ambushed him when he got back and shoved a MILA at him. That started a round of setting those silly things up to satisfy Tom’s paranoia, and which he mostly offloaded onto the scrap team to save time while he handled jobs for P.A.M and Dr Snit. Another cache at Pinnacle Highrise, clearing out some hostiles threatening Mercer, and a chain of jobs involving Randolph Safehouse.

Tom did say, however, “The DIA. Shit, man. That cache you found had some real serious high tech. But the créme de la créme is ballistic polymer weave. Light weight, serious stopping power, and it looks just like normal clothing. I got some in stock now, but, oh, give me time. I got all sorts of ideas.”

“Show me what you got.”

He bought every piece of it Tom had, so he could turn it all over to Verde.

He made up lasagna for dinner, and a salad. He also opened a window to Verde to check in, and was surprised when the expression on the scientist’s face was grave. “What’s up?” he asked as he shifted over a portion of dinner.

“I’m afraid I have some very bad news. You might want to get Reborn in on this.”

Tsuna frowned and opened a second window. Reborn was reading—he was rather fond of that activity—but seemed to sense the intrusion and looked up. His smile was warm, but fleeting.

“Heul.”

Tsuna opened a third window so those two could see each other, then said, “So what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Well, you remember, you told us about the deal with the Vongola Sky ring,” Verde said.

“Yeah. It’s blood-locked. Checkers claimed it would mean…” He faltered thinking of the implications, and his family all stopped eating.

Verde and Reborn both nodded slowly.

“He wasn’t joking,” Verde said.

“Then why the fuck hasn’t he fixed it? It can’t be that hard, can it? We fixed his other screw up. And even then, there’s the Tsow.”

Reborn dropped his chin for a moment. “The Tsow got his fool self killed by bragging just one time too many in the wrong place. As for Checkers, he finally hit the end of his lifespan as best we can tell. Or choked on his ramen. We don’t know. There’s no one left who can fix it. The world is dying, Heul.”

“Seismic activity is up, worldwide,” Verde said. “Normal numbers are fifteen per year at magnitude seven or higher. We’ve had twenty already in just the past few weeks. And as you can imagine, that’s causing a whole host of other issues. Tsunamis, volcanoes going active in multiple places, air pollution thick enough to cause cooling…”

“…I didn’t fucking save you guys just to watch you die like this!” he shouted at the windows.

“Unless you can shift us to a new dimension…”

“But Ghost…” he said.

Sin was staring at his counterpart in deep dismay.

“Fuck this,” he said. “I want to say collect some defects and I’ll try, see if they survive. But when Byakuran did it in that one life, the world Ghost came from was destroyed. Or so he claimed. Your Byakuran might not even have a reasonable guess on this. I…”

“Go ahead,” was whispered in his ear, “it’ll be fine.”

He snapped his head around to the right, but nothing and no one was there. Except Daemon, and he sure as hell hadn’t been the one to say that. “Either I’m hallucinating, or the Great Shuffler just whispered in my ear.”

Valentine, the poor man, was utterly confused. Between a complete lack of context and seeing a duplicate of Sin in one of the windows… Possibly even witnessing Tsuna blow a gasket…

“Telling you to try it?” Daemon asked.

He nodded. “But that could just be me with some extra special, bizarro-style wishful thinking, you know.”

“No,” Sin said. “No. You’re looking at this wrong. Think about it! What the fuck are we in right this moment!?”

“He’s right!” Hayato said. “We swap dimensions all the damn time. Yeah, okay, it’s to and from what we’ve been calling a sub-dimension, but still.”

“Maybe, if the Great Shuffler is who we think it is, he made sure to correct his counterpart’s error, with you?” Chikusa said.

“But if we’re wrong, and I try this, if they say go ahead…”

“Then we’d die a hell of a lot sooner,” Reborn said. “The Arcobaleno are the only ones who even know this right now. Everyone else is just puzzled and worried about recent events. They don’t know Checkers kicked it, they don’t know he existed or what his role was.”

“Can we decide for an entire world?” Ken asked.

Verde shrugged. “I say we gather the Arcobaleno, maybe the Varia, Gesso. Put it to a vote. If we do nothing, we will die. It’ll just be after more disasters. The real question is if it worked, who would go? You can’t shift billions of people, Heul, it’s just not possible.”

His face crumpled as Sin and Daemon each put an arm around him. Sometimes he really hated how dispassionate Verde could be. He swallowed hard and asked, “How long will it take to convene? Cavallone, too. Giglio Nero. Shimon.”

Reborn nodded. “If we tell them it’s an emergency council? We could have them assembled in two days?”

“Okay. Get the heads, their guardians. Vote. I will check back in with you, at Verde’s lab, in two days your time.”

Reborn saluted, Verde nodded, so Tsuna closed the windows, then buried his face in his hands. He struggled for a minute to keep his composure, then straightened up, reclaimed his cutlery, and said, “I’m probably going to need help getting to sleep tonight.”

Sin nodded in his peripheral vision.

Before he left the kitchen that evening he turned to Valentine and said, “I suppose I should mention that I was born into a mafia family and was a mafia don in one life.”

Valentine sputtered and shot a look at the people he was the most familiar with.

Daemon nodded. “Not how I would have chosen to share that news, but… We were all mafia at one time. Heul—Tsuna—was born into a family, but never learned that until he turned thirteen, I believe. His father, whom we call the Tsow, for Tainted Sack of Wind, kept it a secret from his wife and child. The Reborn of that dimension rolled in when Heul was thirteen, after the existing don’s sons had been killed, and told him he was next in line. Heul didn’t even last a month after that. He was blown up by dynamite.

“He woke up, five years old. Confused. Was it all a weird dream? No. The Tsow and the ninth don showed up shortly after, and the Tsow scared him so badly that he showed he was special. Different, as he put it. That made the old man block his powers. It ruined him, his brain stopped working right, he tripped over everything and nothing, he started being bullied excessively. Got chased into traffic and was hit by a car, killed. Lasted two years that time.

“Woke up again. Five years old. Died before the year was out in an explosion. Woke up again, five years old. Reborn arrived when he was thirteen, he died when he was fourteen. Dynamite again. The next time he was fifteen when he died, that time to a missile, during a battle he didn’t want to be in to decide who would take over the family. Then… Then he decided to stop playing their game. Faked his death, moved to Italy, and learned how to deal with, as he puts it, defects. Rapists, people who kill for fun, human traffickers, that sorta thing.

“He’s died a lot of times, in a lot of hilariously stupid ways. It wasn’t until his eleventh life that he made it so far as to actually become the tenth don of the family. And you know? He didn’t live much past that. But he did find us. We all … connected. We come with him, when he dies. He also finally put the pieces together and saved people like Sin, or Reborn as he used to be called.”

Mukuro nodded. “He was cursed, like his comrades. They were the best of the generation, the strongest, so they were chosen as sacrifices, cursed into looking like toddlers, to keep the balance of the world. Sin was fifty-something years old and he looked like he needed diapers. Heul saved them. Those two in the windows. Counterparts, of Sin, of one of his comrades. Heul collects people. Not in the way he collected us, his family, but he still collects people, considers them his.

“The Reborn in the window, that was his eleventh life. Reborn was his tutor, though it was more like Heul was his troll.” Mukuro laughed creepily. “Sin was his tenth life, and joined him through some very odd circumstances. That’s a story in itself. I think he told you now, because if this works, if he saves at least some of them, you’d more than likely find out that they’re all mafia. Mafia on the right side of the line, but still mafia.”

“There’s a right side?” Valentine asked, sounding ever so slightly shrill.

“Yes,” Hayato said. “Members of the Alliance were famiglie who did not deal in the darker side of things. And by that I mean rape, drugs, forced prostitution—or even unforced, usually—human trafficking, slavery, assassination without care like bottom-feeding guns for hire, human experimentation… They were the sorts to try to protect their territories, and the people in them. Heul’s family originally started out as vigilantes, because the government of the time was useless and corrupt. Greedy.”

“But still … mafia?”

“They were operating outside the law, that makes them criminals. Didn’t matter to the law how good their intentions or actions were,” Chikusa pointed out. “To give this some perspective, allow me to explain something about the famiglia I came from, and Mukuro, and Ken. Our own family experimented on us, in every life he encountered us. Ken was spliced with animal DNA to make him more beastly, more feral, but controllable. I had something done to me that made my powers poisonous, but I was saved early enough, and he taught me how to control what I have, so I don’t inadvertently hurt people.”

“And I was repeatedly killed and brought back,” Mukuro said. “Made to live other lives, sent to a literal Hell, six times. Other mes, anyway. I only suffered thrice before Heul came to the rescue after he woke up as a five year old again. Heul is a good man, but he’s also jaded and cynical enough to not get too fussed over removing defects from the gene pool. He’s at least three-hundred fifty years old, probably older, but he still tries to make a difference, fix some of the problems, wherever he ends up. And we’re happy to help him.”

“You know,” Daemon said, “if he can pull this off… Aside from saving a lot of people dear to him, we’d have a whole lot of people who wouldn’t blink over the idea of cleaning up the Commonwealth, making it a safe oasis.”

“So they can charge everyone protection money?” Valentine asked cynically.

“If they come here, they’d be spending all their wealth on things that matter, like seeds, seedlings, livestock, metals, materials. We can use those vaults we found to house them at the start, warehouse everything they collect. They’d end up making more caps selling pre-war varieties of vegetables and meats than bothering with extortion. I’d like to believe the Great Shuffler would allow us the time to ensure everyone was properly settled.”

“Okay, that has come up before and I still don’t know what it means.”

“It’s our nickname for whoever or whatever is controlling these deaths and dimension changes,” Xeul said. “I forget who came up with it. Heul dies in such hilariously stupid ways that there has to be someone arranging this shit. And then to drop him into a new life, with all his memories? Cumulative powers?”

“Well, let’s see,” Daemon said. “He was startled by a yappy dog one time and stumbled, hit his head on the edge of an open manhole, which knocked him out, and he drowned in sewer water. He’s been killed by a bird dropping a tortoise on his head. He drowned in a flood of marshmallow once. Got sucked into space that one time and had his head damn near ripped off in the process. Crushed to death by a very large man. Burned alive by a spontaneous volcano. Got up to get more food, tripped, and snapped his neck when he slammed into the wall…”

Valentine shook his head.

“Counterparts of mine have killed him twice,” Hayato said.

Mukuro shook his head. “I’d have to share one of those. If you recall, my counterpart was controlling you by possession at the time, so really, it wasn’t your counterpart’s fault.”

Hayato nodded agreeably. “Point.”

“I think the only person who wasn’t an enemy at some point in some dimension was Sin, and he was often a sadistic troll because he was so hacked off about being chibified,” Chikusa said. “Heul is very good at … getting people to see things differently, alternatives. Like a kaleidoscope … sort of.”

“Yeah, but he cheated,” Ken said. “He had prior knowledge of all of us.”

Daemon smirked. “If you’re not cheating, you’re not doing it right.”

Sin wandered back into the kitchen and glanced around. “Well, no one’s dead, I see. Heul is sleeping at the moment, and I’m only staying for just a minute. I don’t want to leave him alone right now. As you saw, he’s really broken up.”

“It is a bit startling to see him loose his temper,” Chikusa said. “He’s usually much better at hiding when he’s furious.”

“Is this a breaking point for you?” Sin asked bluntly. “If it is, say so, please. Rip the bandage off. Heul has enough heartache at the moment without wondering if you’re going to flip out on him.”

“I… He’s a good man, I know that. No one bad treats me like a person in their own right. No one bad wastes that much time on a sorry old synth like me.”

Ken shook his head. “Heul’s right. We need to work on your self-esteem, Valentine.”

Tsuna took a deep breath, exhaled, and opened a large window to Verde’s lab. Seated at a large circular table were the Arcobaleno, the heads of Cavallone, Shimon, Gesso, Giglio Nero, and the Varia, along with their seconds. Guardians were cluttering up the background, as there just wasn’t enough room at the table to seat everyone.

“So, the verdict?”

A look went around, then Reborn said, “We voted unanimously to try it.”

He nodded. “All right. So the next question is: Do you have some defects I can … use?”

Yuni nodded, her sweet, innocent face at odds with the hard edge to her gaze. “We had an incursion two days ago, people thinking we were small enough and weak enough that they’d win. They were wrong. Three survived and we’ve already interrogated them. Before Reborn contacted me, they were slated for disposal.”

“Do you have a visual on them?”

Yuni turned to Gamma, who flipped open his laptop, tapped the keys for a few moments, then turned it around. Tsuna could see three feeds, side by side, one for each man.

“Are they active?”

Gamma shook his head.

“Right, a change of venue, I think,” he said, and stood up. “One moment.” He looked at Valentine to see if the man was willing to come along or if he’d prefer to stay behind.

Valentine got up and nodded, so Tsuna took his arm, opened a window to where he was going, then stepped over to Vault 121. After releasing Valentine, he shifted in a few dozen large, battery-operated lights, and lowered them down to the cavern floor, so he could see.

His family stepped in while he was doing that and took up positions at either side of the main entrance into the vault space.

“Commencing test,” he said, then shifted the first man from his cell to the bottom of the vault.

The defect in question yelled out in shock and started looking around, presumably trying to process what had just happened, how his surroundings had changed. “This is a really stupid illusion, ya know! It’s not gonna work to make me talk more!”

Tsuna snorted softly and stepped off the edge of the platform, using his Earth Flames to keep him aloft. He glanced back at the window on the cells and shifted the second man. He had a similar initial reaction, then the two of them started arguing with each other.

“So far so good,” Sin said softly, eyes trained on the scene below.

Neither of them had even bothered to look up. Tsuna shifted the third one in to a repeat reaction, and then he joined the argument. Tsuna quietly shifted in supplies for the three—food, water, bedding, and a pot to piss in, then moved back onto the platform. “Back to the house to continue this conversation,” he said very quietly, then took Valentine’s arm and stepped back over, his window coming with him.

“Verde, how long do you think before we’d have any idea of…?”

“A week, perhaps.” Verde looked immensely relieved; given that Tsuna’s shifting had not just obliterated their world ahead of schedule, he supposed he could understand the man’s normally flat expression slipping.

“I shifted supplies down for them, so they won’t starve or dehydrate. It’s very deep, so it won’t be too cold. It’s also next to impossible for them to climb out of. But we’ll keep a window on them. That aside, we need to start planning with the expectation that I’ll be shifting a whole lot of you here relatively soon.

“Since I plan to use that vault as the initial … base, if you will … you guys need to decide who is going to oversee that vault, or if you’re going to work as a council for now. I don’t care which. You can hash that out in a bit. The place is pretty big, and it’s not the only one we’ve discovered, though it is the largest.

“Since I can open windows to _when_ I want, it’s not a big deal for people to stay on that side until we’re ready for them. We’ll want any engineers or technical people, to ensure shit like water lines, ventilation, all of that, is good. When Samsara is in the vault we can be helping to move things around, since we can all use Earth Flames.”

Enma nodded, as if to himself.

“If nothing else, I can shift some vault pieces over to Verde for him to work up fabrication plans for. Use them to build a staircase switchback down to the ground, with the ends open, so we’d know where the floors fell. It’d give us the necessary alignment to start building up from the bottom.”

“How many floors is it?” Yuni asked.

“Approximately ten down, four up, so fifteen total. Might be more. The entrance is through a subway, so when you open the surface door it leads straight down to that. It’s no longer functioning, as all the tunnels are collapsed. Off the platform is the entrance to the vault, with the door we needed a Pip-Boy to open. Vault-Tec clearly had another experiment in mind, but never managed to get beyond the initial excavation, rather like what we found at Vault 113.

“I think we could set up Recyclers and Fabricators on one or both sides, as there are doors to either side. It makes for an odd, very wide alcove situation. I don’t quite know how to explain it. Earth Flames can move pieces into position so that something like forklifts wouldn’t need to be shifted down there, according to whatever plan is devised.

“We’ll need numbers—how many people are we talking about? How many of your people can even stand the idea of picking up and moving to a post-apocalyptic world? How much material would you be able to bring? Because your money is useless here except to be recycled and used for cloth or paper or the metal content. How much in the way of seeds and seedlings can you gather up? Livestock, as a viable breeding population?

“We’ll need a team of people working on decontamination issues. I can find a surface location, that’s not a problem, but livestock isn’t going to do well underground. We need to be able to stop them from getting irradiated, some kind of barrier. Same with any plants above ground, though Verde’s hydroponics will work fine inside the vault, especially if we added simulated sunlight.

“The last thing we need is for any of the animals to be constantly irradiated. The cows here have two heads, for fuck’s sake. So do the deer. The chickens have no feathers. The insects have mutated up to a massive size and can take down a cow no problem. And that’s not counting the raiders, Gunners, feral ghouls, mole rats, radscorpions, and deathclaws. If you don’t intend to all become vegans, we need something to protect the stock.”

“We might want those people on your side, then,” Dino said. “They’d have the time to come up with this stuff, but over here we’re on more of a time limit. You can open windows to _when_ you want, so you can get back to us five minutes later our time when a month has passed on your side.”

“You’d also want a contingent of guards,” Enma pointed out. “The people working on getting the vault ready can’t be worried about someone coming down into that subway and thinking of setting up shop. Guards could be on duty up there in shifts. I assume since it’s a subway there’d be room to throw up some barricades, camping supplies…”

Tsuna nodded. “Well, people could be sleeping on the train up there, on the seats. Wouldn’t be terribly comfortable. Or we chop that thing up and recycle it just to have more space. But yes, I agree. On the immediate front, you need to start gathering supplies and warehousing them, converting any excess cash into metals, maybe gems, seeds, seedlings, etc., and deciding who is coming over for the initial push. How long do you think that’ll take?”

The Skies exchanged a look. “Two days,” Yuni said after a moment.

Xanxus decided to weigh in and said, “The Varia will be the guards. I can pick out two dozen of my best people to keep everyone in that vault safe while they’re working.”

Tsuna nodded. “On a side note, we discovered that there’s another vault very near to 121. It’s under Malden Middle School, and it was particularly brutal. The point is, we could take that over. Rip everything out and recycle it, and use that as a warehouse after getting a basic build in there.”

“And with those teleporter schematics you found,” Xeul said, “you could easily get back and forth, plus fortify the entrance against incursions. When we went down there we ran into Brotherhood of Steel members and a contingent of Gunners, so the place isn’t unknown.”

“Well, if we can figure out the right heading,” Hayato said, “we could tunnel over to it and close off the original entrance entirely. As long as we can run air and water over to it, it shouldn’t be a problem. There were three huge fusion generators in there that were still functioning, so electricity wouldn’t be an issue, though I have to wonder if they could be moved. The room they were in was more like a cave.”

Ken scowled. “Yes, and based on the evidence, it’s where the children played.”

Yuni wrinkled her nose.

“We could portion out supply duty,” Enma suggested. “One family gets plants, one gets metals, and so forth. That way we wouldn’t be duplicating efforts and wasting time.”

Various heads nodded; it was a sensible suggestion.

“There was an island off the coast,” Ken said. “Saw it when we were hunting down those holotapes. We should check it out. Might be big enough to use as a surface settlement. Hold a lot of people or livestock.”

Tsuna nodded. “Well, I happen to be burned out on the running for the Railroad at the moment, so yeah. We can do that. There are other surface locations we could use, but none quite so defensible as an island. All right, issues to be brought up right now? Or should I check back in two days and we’ll go over what we have then? Once that week is up—if those three are still kicking—we need to start moving.”

“I can’t think of anything offhand,” Reborn said. “Well, aside from lots of weapons and coffee.”

Tsuna snorted. “I may have to start trolling you again, Ren. All right, assume it’s a go and start prepping. We’ll talk again in two days your time.”

Various salutes were made, so Tsuna nodded and closed the window. Then he heaved a huge sigh.

Sin leaned in a gave him a soft kiss. “How about we eat, then go check out that island?”

“Well, that has to go,” Daemon said, staring at the ruined house.

“So does that dock,” Hayato said. “And what the hell was that barge doing out there, just floating, nothin’ even on it?”

Tsuna shrugged and hiked up the hill. Off to the right was a shed-type place, with a tiny greenhouse off the side. There was no workbench in there, not that it mattered. Shit had gotten twice as real, and he wasn’t going to let a little thing like the lack of a workbench matter when it came to deciding on places to acquire. It should be on the other side of the island, anyway, as a way to get the player to walk that far in the first place.

“We’re on the ocean, so I’d expect mirelurks,” he said as the house passed out of view on the left.

His family took that as code for, “There were mirelurks here in the game.”

“Those boats could probably be scrapped. It’s not like they’re doing much good, and the fish are probably as mutated as the dolphin corpses I’ve seen. All those crates,” he said, on climbing high enough to see the crashed, loaded barge on the left side coast.

“Why are there power lines?” Chikusa asked.

“No poles, so it’s makeshift. Probably previous settlers,” Xeul said. “It’s quite hilly here, but we can make that work. Build up some walls, fill in with soil from elsewhere, level it off. Build in protections on the exterior or at the top…”

Tsuna hummed. At least here in a real version he would not have to worry about power getting cut off just because it crossed a cell boundary. He would prefer, if possible, to keep with solar power, if only because fusion generators… Some of them had been running for hundreds of years, so they were stable, but… Plenty others he had seen were defunct. Burnt out? Too damaged to work? They did not make him uneasy, but…

“The lines go from that camper-shack thing to a boat on the water,” Ken said. “Maybe a generator down there?”

“Let’s check the whatever it is first,” he said, “then the boat. Maybe the shed has one and the boat, I dunno, had powered nets or something?” Plausible scenarios were necessary when Valentine was along.

The workbench was inside the metal structure, along with a circuit breaker and a note, which exhorted the reader to turn the generator on first, on the boat. They trundled off down the hill, crossed over some rickety wooden planks, and onto the boat. Tsuna found the circuit breaker in there and flipped it, then closed the cover as the generator rumbled to life.

Also rumbling to life were several mirelurks and a mirelurk queen. Sin had fun shooting them, so it was all good. Back up at the metal shack thing he flipped the switch, which set off an audible signal, something that pissed the mirelurks off but good, as it was supposed to.

Mirelurks popped up out of their resting places burrowed into the soil and booked it for the ocean, but none of them made it that far. He supposed they could harvest all of them and drop the meat off at Sanctuary—if he ever did manage to get back there—and recycle the shells and cartilage.

A full sweep of the island was made, with Samsara and Valentine in a line rather like a search party in the woods looking for a missing person, and shooting anything that so much as twitched.

“Well, that takes care of that, I think,” he said. “One island, ready to be scrapped, terraformed, and built on.”

“If we do put up walls, high ones, we could excavate some of that soil,” Hayato said. “Even it out a bit. And get more floors in, ‘underground’. Keep enough height at the top that any surface structures still have some protection, from guns, high winds, that sorta stuff.”

“We could tow that barge this way and keep it offshore,” Ken added. “Make a water farm off it?”

“Would save space on the island itself,” Tsuna said, “though I suppose if we’re walling in and flattening the land, it wouldn’t matter if there were large purifiers at sea level. We can tow the barge closer, in any case, and figure that out after. So long as we have a deep enough soil base on top of whatever ‘underground’ levels there are, for any planted crops, and to cushion the feet of livestock.”

“The engineers can figure that out, the strength necessary to support all that,” Sin said. “The retaining walls will have to be pretty hefty, though, if we fill at all.”

“Even for the underground rooms I could anchor some illusions,” he said, “give them the appearance of windows to the outside. Some simulated sun, and people wouldn’t be suffering from rickets. Same with the vaults.”

“You’d have to teach Viper or some other Mists how, though,” Daemon said. “Those anchors won’t function beyond your death. Maybe runes? No reason not to show them how. And for extra space, we could craft more chests.”

He nodded. “Either way, we need fabrication plans from Verde for the walls. Box this whole island in. I know Enma can also help with the heavy lifting, but he’s just one man. I don’t know if his father is retired and still alive to assist, or if Enma took over because of the man’s poor health or death.”

“I’d say, offhand, do the walls just a little bit inland, so we have the option to sink them down six or so feet without having to constantly drain out any water while getting things set,” Sin said. “It could all be filled with a base of reinforced concrete to even it up. But I’m not an engineer, so…”

“We’ll bring it up at the next meeting, or when the techs are brought over. Depends on how many, I guess, because the initial focus would have to be that vault. You know what? Yes. Let’s start crafting trunks. Then it wouldn’t matter so much if the vault wasn’t even close to being ready. They won’t be five-star accommodations, but things will get better along the way.”

“And those vault rooms weren’t terribly low-ceilinged, so it shouldn’t induce claustrophobia,” Ken said.

“Put labels on top of the trunks,” Xeul said. “GN and a number for Giglio Nero, VR for Varia, and so forth. And I expect once the Varia is over here, Xanxus would be handing out jobs to his people to start cleaning up the infestations of raiders and such, making it safer out there for the average person.”

“Is the Varia a family?”

Tsuna shook his head. “Well, sort of, but not really. They’re a division of the family I was born into, a high-level assassination squad and all around troubleshooters. I was one of them, in one life, when I decided to discard the hand I was dealt and make my own rules. They would be good for cleaning up. The more raiders taken out, the more of a reputation the Commonwealth has for being unfriendly to that shit, the better.

“Xanxus is damn good at leading them. A touchy temper, but he may have mellowed out a bit since we last dealt with him in person. Seems the only Vongola left is me, and I’m not even in a blood Vongola body. Never wanted to be a mafia boss in the first place, so that’s just as well.”

“…We forgot CEDEF,” Chikusa said. “Some of them, anyway. Like Basil. And Leto. Lal is a given, and she was part of the vote anyway. Talbot?”

“Shit. How did I forget Talbot? We’ll have to check in with him. Or at least pry out of him what those rings are made of if he’s not willing to make the move. Right. Let’s get all the meat out of these mutated crabs and lobsters. I’ll shift it over to Sanctuary so they have something other than vegetables to eat. I’m just not in the mood to deal with Garvey personally. Not yet, anyway. Then we can start in on those trunks.”

“We have spent the last week working hard,” he informed the gathering after opening his wall-sized window. “One, we’ve constructed quite a number of housing trunks, something we learned how to do from one of my lives. Think of them as pocket dimensions, with the trunk lid being the doorway. We can house quite a lot of people in very little space.

“Two, we cleared that island Ken mentioned, and we can work out plans for enclosing a good part of it, and figuring out various things that would result in both housing, workshops, recreation, and space for livestock. After someone has come up with a barrier of some kind to screen out any radiation.

“Three, those three defects are still alive, and still occasionally arguing about the best way to escape. They don’t seem to have suffered any ill effects at all, though they aren’t pleased with the lack of amenities.

“Four, I checked in with Talbot, and he’s willing to make the jump. He’s agreed to stockpile the materials necessary for rings for us to shift over. We made storage trunks for him to fill. People coming here won’t be bereft of the usual.

“Five, if you haven’t already, Lal, get with Basil and Leto, whoever else from CEDEF you think would be good choices.”

She nodded.

“Six, we’ve chopped some of the vault pieces into squares, essentially, part of the whole, so that Verde can make fabrication plans. Corners, sides, ones with windows, doors, etc., as well as the doors themselves, and atrium pieces. Also separated out some staircases of various configurations. There’s plenty more, but that can wait until the migration is complete. I don’t think anyone needs to worry about wall colours right now, for instance. They’re fairly large, so… Verde, where’s a good place for me to shift them? Or are you coming in the initial push?”

“I’m coming over, assuming you can shift most of my lab equipment.”

Tsuna nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.” He turned to his family. “Trunk or…?”

“Trunk,” Daemon said. “Or trunks. No reason not to. It’s not like we’d have to physically move pieces through the entrance, so it doesn’t matter how big anything is.”

Tsuna nodded again and created a host of clones to go do that, something that caused Valentine to sputter again.

“That reminds me. Folks, this is Nick Valentine, a Gen-2.5 synth, or synthetic human. He has the memories of a man from pre-war, plus all his own experiences, and he’s been our local guide, currently set up as a detective. He’s a friend.”

Everyone on the other side got the message as intended. Valentine is a protected party.

“It also reminds me to mention that Samsara can clone itself thanks to that one life, though the clones are only temporary. It increases the workforce, though, and they can use some of our abilities. They’re the reason we could make so many damn trunks in so little time and outfit them.

“We’ve also made a number of storage trunks for your use. All the stuff you stockpile can go into them, if only to make it easier to shift. I suggest you label the lids. Verde, do you have an empty room I can put all those?”

Verde nodded and got up. “Follow.”

Tsuna opened another window so he could do that and still keep the one on the conference and, when Verde opened a door to a relatively empty room, nodded and Samsara shifted everything over.

Verde closed the door and returned to the conference.

“If you need more, just say so at one of these meetings. Anything alive, like seedlings or livestock, we need to know about early. We have a way of putting things like that into stasis, so they can safely be stored until required. In that case I’d say…”

“Get rafts of seedlings, or a field of cattle, or cages of chickens, whatever, and tell us,” Daemon said. “We can deal with them immediately, shifting them over, using stasis, and storing them here.”

“If necessary we can trade with λ9,” Xeul said. “Gold for more supplies, or certain tech to that Verde to pay for what we need. Possibly λ15. I see no reason we can’t become self-sufficient here, though. You, rather, since Heul will inevitably suffer a hilariously stupid death and Samsara will be gone.”

The Arcobaleno over there all smiled a bit ruefully.

“We’ve gone through the ranks and assembled our techs and engineers,” Yuni said. “We can have them assemble here within the hour. They’re all housed nearby at the moment.”

The other Skies nodded, Byakuran included, who had yet to say a single world. Tsuna was not wary of the man, but he also had no idea how he felt about him, especially since a version of him might be the Great Shuffler, and this Byakuran might be a set of eyes for that one.

“All right. Since that’s going to take a bit, I’m going to make food for all of us. We can have something to eat, and then I can shift over the initial crew, to the vault. We are going to have deal with those three defects, though.”

“Send them back,” Yuni said. “We’ll deal with them, as originally intended.”

“Sure. I’ll put them back in those cells.” He got up and, with Sin and Ken’s help, proceeded to make food for dozens. Stir fry, specifically, since it was easy to make in quantity, and a boatload of rice to go with it.

Those who had never had Tsuna’s cooking were pleasantly surprised—and Valentine sighed again, wistfully.

“Right, step one,” he said after everyone was done and the dishes had been stacked up to be washed. “Shifting the defects back.” He opened a window onto their captives and, one by one, shifted them to the cells.

“Step two, getting the initial push over here. Step three will be packing up Verde’s lab so we can get him over here, too, and set up. Let’s move to the vault, shall we?” He took Valentine’s arm, shifted them over, followed by the rest of Samsara, and brought the wall-sized window with him. “Which room are they in?”

Yuni got up and led the way, opening a door to a large room just packed with people. They all had backpacks on, presumably stuffed with personal items, and various trunks were waiting as well.

“All right. This may feel strange, folks,” he said. “It’s a bit dark on this side, so don’t be alarmed by that.” Without any other warning he began shifting people over, to the subway station area, and ignored the exclamations of shock and surprise.

Daemon took care of organizing them, pointing out the housing trunks, as Tsuna turned his attention back to the conference; Yuni had already rejoined them. Presumably Xanxus’s guard contingent had been in that lot, so… They could sort themselves out.

“Verde’s lab. I assume you’ve already disconnected all of it, so it’ll be safe to shift into the lab trunks?”

Verde nodded. “I’ll have to walk you to the various rooms.”

“Right, let’s go.” That took an hour, as Verde was nothing if not acquisitive when it came to technology. Then Verde himself was shifted. “Did you manage to get those teleporters set?”

“Yes, so we can start fabricating them and setting up a network.”

“Awesome. And the first place I’m considering placing one is the barge we towed over to the island, so we have a simple way for personnel to get there and figure out the details. We can also place them at Vaults 113 and 111. We had considered ripping out the guts of 111 and converting it into a fusion core and microfusion cell manufactory.”

Xanxus’s brow went up.

“They developed laser weapons over here,” he said in response to the unasked question. “They use those for power or ammunition. I know I saw one guy with a gatling laser, and I think those use fusion cores as the source. Laser pistols and rifles use the microfusion cells.”

“Don’t suppose they can set to separate networks?” Chikusa asked.

Verde nodded. “Different encryption signals can be used.”

“Awesome. I am going to open a window daily, your time,” he said to the conference. “That way we can keep on top of things both sides. If you need more storage, let us know, we’ll make more trunks. We can also start shifting over what you’ve already gathered. If you use the same room you did for the initial push, I can just check every so often and grab whatever’s there.

“Keep track of what you’ve gathered and we’ll do the same. It might help if you label the trunks with an ID, so we can at least note that down, and you can check inventories once you arrive, or attach copies of the manifests so the people already here can do that. Xanxus, your people were in that push?”

Xanxus nodded.

“Awesome. If Daemon hasn’t already, he can show them topside, so they can consider options. Maybe we can put discreet cameras out there, something, so they won’t be exposed to radiation any more than necessary.”

“And that island you mentioned?”

“Yeah, we’ll need something for that, too, but I don’t see the point of additional people until we’re ready to start digging trenches and putting walls in place. Once we have a perimeter up, we can figure out floor heights, and get a teleporter in place. Then the barge could be turned into a water farm or chopped up and recycled. The walls would provide a hell of a lot of protection all by themselves.”

“How big is that island?” Dino asked.

“Uh… I have no clue. Hang on, let me step over there and get a bird’s-eye view for you to figure estimates.” He stepped over and rose into the air so he could get the view he wanted, facing toward the mainland, then opened a large enough window that those in the conference could see it laid out. As an afterthought he opened one so Verde could also see.

“That’s got to be at least thirty acres,” Romario said. “We can check the details on this side? The history might not be the same, but…”

Various Skies nodded, so Tsuna stored the extra windows and stepped back to the vault. “It’s named Spectacle Island here. I assume it’d be the same there. Off the coast of Boston, Massachusetts. There is evidence of a small settlement there previously, but also raiders. And there’s that mirelurk issue. The sonic repulser thing keeps them away when it’s powered, but after the wall is placed, they shouldn’t be an issue, nor raiders.”

“What was that fort in the distance?” Enma asked.

“They call it the Castle, but I think the original name was Fort Independence? It was a Minutemen stronghold, I’m pretty sure. I plan to get around to helping them take it back, at some point. The radio tower in the center was their broadcasting point, to keep their allies in the loop. Right now? It’s probably infested with mirelurks, being right on the water like that.”

“Minutemen?” Adelheid asked, stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar term.

“A home-grown militia. Common folk, protecting themselves and others. Not the big, established places, though, like Diamond City—which was founded inside Fenway Park—or Bunker Hill, Goodneighbor. More like the smaller settlements, people just trying to feed themselves and have shelter. I intend to help with that, but there’s something else I really ought to be doing first, which is going after the big bad of this setting. But we’ll get into that after everyone is shifted over. Then we can have a mass briefing and everyone will be on the same page. What time do you guys want to meet each day? Morning? Afternoon?”

Another look was exchanged amongst the Skies and the Arcobaleno. “Ten each morning?” Dino said.

No one objected, so Tsuna nodded. “Ten o’clock, then.”

Farewells of various sorts went around, and Tsuna stored the window. “Verde, let’s get you set up.”


	7. λ34: 07: Commonwealth

## λ34  
07: Commonwealth  
“Who wrote this? Some kid with a crayon? Shit, must’ve been a really big kid.”

Verde did his magic and they soon enough had fabrication plans for basic vault structures, especially after they shifted him over to Vaults 75 and 111 for a look-see for how the various pieces connected to each other.

The trunks they had made were constructed with the idea of them being set on end, with the lid opening sideways like a door. It just seemed to make more sense in the end, rather than having people climb down a ladder to the interior. The subway entrance of Vault 121 had them lining the walls and, for the time being, there was a teleporter up top and one down at the bottom of the excavated area, to facilitate travel while the staircase was being built to provide a guideline for floor heights.

As it was, they had to start from the top, moving a staircase into place and securing it with scaffolding, temporary floor pieces around, and then the next, all the way down. It was found by the crew that the bottom was just slightly too high and a round of excavation was done to get things to line up correctly.

They also marked off where to put the tunnel over to Vault 75 and excavated ten feet in so that the start of a double-wide hallway could be placed temporarily and ensure they knew what vault pieces to put over there so it all connected properly.

Tsuna didn’t see the point in placing a teleporter at Spectacle yet, not until they were ready to work over there. Placing one just gave outsiders the opportunity to infiltrate. That was tabled until later.

He decided, after consulting with his family, to get on with that whole main quest thing.

“There’s quite a lot of radiation,” Xeul reported, “and more than a few beasties to encounter. Motes of radiation floating in the air, pools of irradiated water… Not a nice place, overall. We found Virgil’s hideout southwest of ground zero, that bomb you saw drop. We noticed a deathclaw prowling around outside. Sent a glossed window in to get a visual, since that wouldn’t change much. He’s got up can chimes, spotlights, some turrets, Protectrons…”

“Hopefully he won’t be hostile to just one or two of us coming in,” he said.

“There’s also plenty of scrap out there, so long as it’s done via windows, or by people who have adequate protection. Manufactories, a crashed airplane, dead trees, and so forth. Might piss off the Children of Atom in there, but so long as we kept our distance…”

Inside the cave were the promised protections, and down the tunnel, which opened out into a small cave area, was Virgil. He was dressed in the tattered remains of his Institute uniform, which looked rather odd on someone who had deliberately infected himself with a strain of FEV in order to turn super mutant to avoid being irradiated to death.

“Hold it! Take it nice and slow, no sudden moves…” Virgil said in a low, gritty, growly voice. “I know you’re from the Institute, so where’s Kellogg? Huh? Trying to sneak up on me while you distract me? It’s not going to work! I’m not stupid, I knew they’d send him after me!”

“Kellogg is dead.”

“Dead? He’s … dead? Don’t you lie to me!”

“I killed him personally, then dug the cybernetics out of his corpse.”

“Did you… Kellogg was ruthless… There’s a reason the Institute used him to do their dirty work for so many years. I knew they’d send him after me; tried to prepare for it. But I still wasn’t sure I’d make it… And so you … you killed him, eh? Then what do you want with me?”

“Why _did_ you leave the Institute? I know you came from there.”

“You know about the escape? But how!? No, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going back… I can’t go back. Look at me! Why are you even here? What do you want?”

“I need whatever information you can give. Anything to help me get into the Institute.”

Seeing a super mutant—wearing tied-on glasses no less—do a double-take was its own kind of comedy gold. “I’m sorry, what? You want to get _into_ the Institute? Are you insane? Never mind how nearly impossible that is, even if you were to succeed it’d almost certainly end in your immediate death. What reason could you possibly have for taking that kind of risk?”

“Kellogg kidnapped a child right in front of me, then handed him over to the Institute.”

“Yeah, I’d … I’d believe that. Wouldn’t be the first time. I can help you get in there, but I want something in return.”

“That’s how the world works, usually. You help me, and I’ll help you.”

“All right. Before I was forced to leave, I was working on a serum to reverse this mutation. It could return me to normal. You understand? So if you get in there, I need you to find it in my old office, and bring it to me. I think that’s pretty reasonable, in exchange for helping you. So let’s talk details. First thing’s first. You know how synths get in and out of the Institute?”

“Teleportation.”

“Well, well… Not many know about it. Pretty closely guarded secret. You’ve certainly done your homework. It’s commonly referred to as the ‘Molecular Relay’. I don’t understand all the science behind it, but it works. De-materializes you in one place, re-materializes you in another. I’m sure it sounds crazy, but it’s a reality. The Relay is the only way in and out of the Institute. You understand? The only one.”

‘The only one you’re aware of, maybe.’

“That means you’re going to have to use it. Now, have you ever seen an Institute Courser?”

“Heard of them, haven’t run into one personally.” ‘I don’t think a memory counts, and I’m not about to share that with this guy.’

“Not surprising. They don’t come out often, and when they do, few see them. Coursers are Institute synths, designed for one purpose. They’re hunters. Operations go wrong, a synth goes missing, and a Courser is dispatched. They’re very good at what they do, and you’re going to have to kill one.”

“Presumably because they have something on them I need. Point me in the right direction, then.”

“Well, I suppose your enthusiasm counts for something. And you’re right. Every Courser has special hardware that gives them a direct connection to the Relay in the Institute. It’s embedded in a chip in their heads. You need that chip. But to get it, you’ll have to find a Courser. Now I don’t know exactly where you can find one. They haven’t sent any after me, and sitting here waiting doesn’t seem like a good plan. You’re going to have to hunt one down. I can tell you where to start, and give you some help finding one, but you’ll have to do the dirty work.”

“What’s required?”

“The primary insertion point for Coursers is in the ruins of C.I.T., directly above the Institute. So you’ll want to head there. Now, the Relay causes some pretty heavy interference all across the EM spectrum. You’ve got a radio on that Pip-Boy, right? When you get to the ruins, tune it to the lower end of the band and listen in. You’ll be able to hear the interference.

“Follow the signal, and it’ll lead you to a Courser. Then you just have to … not get killed. Not gonna lie; the odds aren’t in your favor here. But if you do make it, remember what I said about the serum. I need it, badly. I… I really do hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Tsuna nodded and backed off, then slipped away with Valentine to nearer the entrance so they could step out. Virgil must have scavenged from ruins in the Glowing Sea to even get half the stuff present in the cave. 

The ruins of C.I.T. were approached from Corvega. No other raiders had yet infested the place, so it was safe to step into as a shortcut. A relatively short jog south got them into position. Tsuna did as specified by Virgil, though he had the advantage of “Courser Signal” being an option in the list of stations, which simplified things.

The blurping sounds led his team through raider territory, to Greenetech Genetics, where a contingent of Gunners had a captured synth under guard. He shut the radio off once they got inside, as he already knew they’d be up on the top floor.

Inside a Courser was steadily making its way upward, taking out Gunners along the way. It was another place they could loot to the bedrock, after the fact. One of the Gunners he killed had a man-bun, which he found inordinately amusing.

He knew when he heard, “Fall back to original positions, the Courser’s nearing the elevator!” that they were getting close, followed shortly by, “The Courser’s after the girl. Anyone alive needs to get up to the top floor immediately. That’s an order!”

They eventually made it to the room that opened out to the lift, so they took care of the Gunners inside, disabled tripwires on the way, hacked the turrets, and cautiously opened the door. More Gunners were relieved of life, and they trundled up the short flight of stairs to the lift.

At the top was a maglock door to a central cage, with cubicle areas to either side, on the edge of the room, with a door at the far end, leading to stairs headed up to the next floor. The door up there led to another large room with a cage at the center—a continuation of the cage below?—and caged off areas to each side. A door was at the far end.

“I don’t know the password. I’m tellin’ the truth!” some poor, unfortunate soul shouted from overhead.

“I don’t believe you are,” replied a smarmy voice.

“Oh god, please, no,” was heard, followed by the sound of a laser firing.

“All he had to do was tell me the password. Now, are you going to cooperate?”

“Oh god, oh god…”

“Tell me.”

“Okay, okay, just don’t … shoot. Let me think!”

Another laser shot was heard, and, “I’m going to get in there. It’s just a matter of time. Tell me the password.”

Clearly the Institute did not train their Coursers on how to hack.

“Look, I already told you I don’t have it. I’ll help you find your way in, but listen, we took the girl fair and square. All we want is a little compensation in return.”

“You are in no position to negotiate.”

“Okay, okay. Just … let me think…”

“Time’s running out.”

“No, please wait. You … you can have the girl, just let me—”

A death gurgle was heard after another laser shot.

“Kami-sama,” he said quietly. “How many Gunners does he have hostage up there?”

Through the door was an area with offices or something, restrooms, and another staircase up, which said something about the acoustics of the building. A Vault-Tec Cross-Promotional bobblehead was there, a № 4.

At the very top—finally—was their goal.

“You’ve been following me,” he heard. The marker for the Courser was shifting around in there. “You! Come here. …Get over here.”

The Courser, once he passed through the archway, was dressed in the usual black and held a standard Institute laser pistol. Tsuna smiled serenely and blasted him in the chest until he fell over dead.

“Could use a little help over here,” a woman’s voice called out.

Tsuna looted the body, including digging the Courser chip out of the poor sod’s brains, and went hunting down the password he knew had to be somewhere. Sin just hacked the terminal, so he left off and waited for the woman to emerge.

“I also turned on the lift,” Sin said quietly.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you was enough. You’re welcome.”

“My Institute designation is K1-98, but I prefer Jenny. So yes, I’m a synth. If you hadn’t already guessed. I knew they’d send a Courser. I just … didn’t think he’d find me so fast. I think I would have lost him, too, but then I was captured by these … mercenaries. And all this happened. Thanks again for your help. I’m gonna look for supplies before heading out. And before you ask, no, I don’t need any more help. The Commonwealth is unforgiving. I need to make it on my own or I’m dead. Maybe we’ll meet again, under better circumstances. I hope we do.”

She took off, so he entered the lift. That took them down to the lobby, so they could exit without having to jump off the roof.

“Now to get this thing decoded,” he said.

“What about Verde?” Chikusa said.

“I could, but… I get the feeling the Railroad can help. If they can’t? Sure. Let’s try them first. And it’ll allow me to let them know I’m still kicking.”

“I have a report here,” Desdemona said when he got close enough. “It reads more like a comic book. Apparently, one hell of a fight took place at Greenetech Genetics. And where have you been?”

“Had a family emergency to take care of, which meant any number of tasks to complete in not a lot of time. As for Greenetech Genetics? Yeah, that was us. Took down any number of Gunners, and a Courser.”

“That’s what the report says. Hard to believe. I’m all for one less Courser in the world, but the conventional wisdom is that you run from them rather than engage them. So why did you kill him?”

“See, I got a lead on getting into the Institute, and I needed a Courser, the chip in his brain, and the code on it.”

Desdemona nearly dropped her cigarette. “You have one of their chips? Intact? Follow me. Now.” She headed off in Tinker Tom’s direction, saying, “Decoding a Courser Chip is a very delicate operation. A million things can go wrong—the least of which is losing the data. Fortunately, we have the right man for the job.”

He heard Drummer Boy saying, “P.A.M. wants to see you. She has a job,” but shrugged that off for the moment.

“Hey, Dez. You need something?”

“Tom, we got a Courser Chip.”

“Whoa? For real? Oh man, it’s been ages.”

‘Since what?’ he wondered.

“You’ve hit the jackpot with this. Give Tom the chip. Let’s see what’s on it.”

He nodded and handed it over, still bloody, and wondered why no one ever questioned how their clothing was always in pristine condition and freshly laundered.

“Tom, make it happen.”

“All right, little Courser Chip,” Tom crooned as he hunched over his desk to hook the chip up to some of his machinery. “Let’s have the circuit analyzer take a crack at you.”

Should we have someone get a copy of whatever’s on that terminal?

Tsuna nodded slightly. Probably wouldn’t hurt. Could come in very late, when most are sleeping, set up a Box, copy the data, slip back out. Let Verde figure it out. I don’t think we’ll need to do more analyzing, but… It wouldn’t hurt to know what they know.

“We’re in,” Tom said as he switched focus to his terminal. “Chip accessed. Just poke the analog connectors a little. What? Oh, man. Do-do-don’t crash. Hold it together. …Memory hiccup. Here it comes. Encryption algorithms. All right. We’re still running. Oh, man. They’ve added more decimals to the last cipher. This is gonna be…

“C’mon, baby, show me that pattern. Where is it? Wait… They’re using the same logarithmic function as the key generator. Oh man, we got lucky. I got you, you Institute bastard. I got you. Solve for N. Come on, show me that sweet base number. Come on, baby. And we got it! We got the code!” Tom laughed. “Let me load that onto a holotape for ya.”

“Good work, Tom,” Desdemona said.

“Not sure our luck will hold up next time, Dez,” Tom said as he offered Tsuna the promised holotape.

“I hope this helps you as much as you’ve helped us, Fixer. Good work.”

They headed off, and stepped out again once it was clear, to the vault, where Verde was. “Hey, how’re things going?”

“Well so far,” Verde said. “Is there an issue?”

“Not really, but I did want to ask if you would extract a copy of the data on this holotape, as a backup. I’m sorta curious to know what’s really on it, and you’re the best person for that.”

“I will, but where did the data come from?”

“We tracked down an Institute Courser and yanked the chip out of his head, had the Railroad analyze it.”

Verde nearly pouted. “Why not me?”

“Because they wanted information like that as much as I needed it, so I let them take first crack. This is also about these people helping themselves. No one could have counted on me being here and having access to one of the top minds in existence. If it hadn’t worked I would have come here. All else failing, the next Courser we run across that needs to die, we can grab that chip and deliver it to you to analyze.”

“Well, the holotape, please. I’ll extract a copy of the data.”

While he was there he opened a window to the push room and shifted over a bunch of storage trunks, and checked in at the conference room, even though in the end he might just wait until this phase of things was over and then just “backdate” his windows, so to speak.

“Wasn’t sure I’d see you again,” Virgil said. “You managed to get what you need?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You did get rid of Kellogg, after all. Not too much of a leap to take down a Courser. How’d you manage to get it decoded?”

“…I have a very smart friend.”

Virgil hummed, accepting that. “The point is that you got it. You’re not the only one who’s been busy. I did the best I could, from memory and things I’ve overheard through the years. Came up with some schematics for you. Wasn’t easy; these hands are ridiculous. Fine motor skills have gone to shit.

“Here’s the simple explanation: You need to build a device that will hijack the signal the Institute uses to teleport Coursers and send you instead. You know the craziest part of the design? That classical music station … that’s the carrier signal for the Relay. All the data’s on harmonic frequencies. You’ve been hearing it all along. I want to be clear that this isn’t my area of expertise. I was BioScience, not Engineering or Advanced Systems or anything.”

“BioScience? Advanced Systems?”

“Divisions within the Institute. Specialized groups working on various projects. It’ll make sense later. But if you can build this device, and make use of that code, you should be able to override the signal from the Institute’s relay. Can you? I mean, can you build it? You have people who can help? This is a lot for one person, even you.”

“Yes, I have people.”

“Good, good. Because you’ve gotta make it in there. For both our sakes. And don’t you forget our agreement. I’ve helped you as best I can. If you make it in there, you find that serum. It’s my only hope for ever being … normal. So you find it. Now go on,” Virgil said, handing over the schematics. “Take these and get to work. You do whatever it takes; call on whoever you know to help you.”

“Protect and serve,” the Protectron said as they retreated.

“Let’s make a scan of this first, then go see HQ.”

“More helping people to help themselves?” Valentine asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Need something?” Desdemona asked.

“Can you take a look at these schematics? Or Tom, I suppose. A scientist who went rogue and escaped the Institute made these up and said they could get me inside.”

“So that’s what the Courser Chip was all about. You needed that frequency, I take it. Why? What does this machine do?”

“The Institute uses something they call a Molecular Relay—teleportation, basically—to get in and out. These schematics are for a device that can hijack their signal and send me instead.”

Desdemona just stared at him for a few moments, quietly stunned. “We’ve spent dozens of years and too many good agents’ lives only to discover not a god damned thing. And now we have the answer, thanks to you. Teleportation. That the Institute could build something so… But we’ve got work to do. This is our top priority now. I want Tinker Tom to help you in any way possible to get this device built.”

Having gotten the OK from top brass, he flashed a victory sign at her and headed over to Tom. “Hey, I got something for you,” he said, holding out the schematics.

Tom took them and glanced through it. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. Whoa. Who wrote this? Some kid with a crayon? Shit, must’ve been a really big kid. Oh, man! Molecular transmission via encrypted RF waves? Those Institute eggheads are crazy. And you can divert the signal using a heavily modified relay interception. Like a … pirate broadcast, you know? That’s intense.”

“Can you build it, Tom?” he asked, knowing damn well he’d be the one doing the heavy lifting, which meant Verde.

“The plans cover all the high-end egghead shit, but they’re missing a ton of the engineering details. Filling in the gaps will take time. This bit here? The ‘Stabilized Reflector Platform’? Just needs some high-grade metal. Easy. By the time you finish that, I’ll have the rest done.”

“What am I going to need to gather?”

“We can scrounge up the platform components you need. No problem. But where to build it? It’s going to need some serious space. This baby’s big.”

Tom opened his mouth to say more, but Tsuna cut him off. The last thing he wanted to hear was a suggestion to use Mercer, because the very idea of it was ludicrous. “I have just the place. You may have run across that old drive-in theatre? Starlight, I think? There’s nothing there at the moment, though I had planned to turn it into a settlement. We could use that, and once this is all over, scrap what’s built for this. That way it wouldn’t be anywhere near an established Railroad area.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll flag some runners to deliver the components there.”

“Awesome. We’re gonna take a short break to clean off the Courser goo, and get at that first thing.”

Tom waved them off, so they departed as per usual.

Tsuna printed out the scan of the schematics and took them to Verde to share. “Our contact is working out the gaps in these, but I figured you’d want to see them, too. We’ll need to head over to Starlight and build the, uh, ‘Stabilized Reflector Platform’, then liaise with him to see what else he’s come up with.”

Verde accepted the sheets with a faint moue. “I think if you’ll be patient for a little while, I can come up with a fabrication plan for this. Certainly better than having to pour a concrete base, wait for it to cure, and then bolt this other stuff onto it.”

He nodded, happy to give Verde some spotlight in the process, and said, “Then I’m going to shower, make something to eat, and check back with you. If you manage it before we get back, just send a message.”

Verde nodded absently, already engrossed in the schematics. He had presented Tsuna with upgraded Pip-Boys not long after he had been shifted over, so they were all wearing them. They looked exactly the same to outward appearances, but they were anything but. They had the bonus of being able to send messages back and forth, like texting on a phone, with a holographic keyboard that popped up at need. Even Ellie had one, so she could keep in touch with Valentine more easily.

He was just finishing up his tamagoyaki when his Pip-Boy pinged him; Verde was ready. The washing up was done quickly, and they all trooped off to see the scientist in question. Verde pointed off to the side at a platform and said, “There you have it. I do have plans for the other parts, but we’ll see what your contact has to say before I finalize any of that.”

“Awesome. I knew I could count on you. We’ll get to Starlight and I’ll shift it over.”

Starlight was just down the road from the Museum of Freedom (so to speak) and behind a Drumlin Diner, where a trader operated (in the game, anyway). It was flatter than he remembered it being in the game, but that just made things simpler.

They took out the mole rats which nested there and picked the lock on the little shed off to the side. The workbench was there where Tsuna expected it to be. The projector building was in fairly decent shape, but he held everyone back from entering the only door that wasn’t boarded up.

“Just a feeling,” he said. “We need to enter from above, or slither through one of these openings. I think this door might be trapped. Not certain, though.”

Ken shrugged and boosted himself onto the lip that surrounded the front, where a person inside could see to film-goers’ needs for overpriced popcorn, cola, and other snacks, then slid through under an open shutter. “Yeah, there’s a tension trap on this thing,” he called out. “It’s wired to a bomb.”

Sin snorted and slithered in himself, to go deal with it, then opened the door. “It’s shelter, if nothing else.”

“Let’s get a temporary generator up, shift in the platform, then go see our friend.”

“You got the platform built yet?” Tom asked. “Tick tock, tick tock. I’m waiting for the good news.”

“Easy there. Yeah. It’s been built.”

“And I filled in the blanks on the blueprints. We can actually build this crazy thing. The science of this monstrosity is wow. But fortunate for us, the ingredients—pretty common. But there’s three specialty items that I can’t just grab from our safehouses. You find those and we’ll knock down the gates of Hell.” He handed over a scrap of paper with a list.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t doubt it for one minute. After you get the get-ables, meet me at the build site.”

“Awesome. I’m on it,” he said, then trundled off. The list said:

> #### Hopefully these parts aren’t too hard to come by. Best guess of where to find them enclosed.
> 
> ~ Military-Grade Circuit Board — try old military bases
> 
> ~ Biometric Scanner — hospitals and clinics are your best bet
> 
> ~ Sensor Module — look in radio stations, radar sites, etc.
> 
> #### You get me the goods and I’ll whip up a miracle.

“Yeah… Okay, let’s mosey.” A quick step and they were back with Verde, to update him, as well as to hand over each of the three parts Tinker Tom had specified. He had been keeping them in reserve, because he knew they played a part.

“I see,” Verde said. “Let me make a few adjustments… I don’t know why there is a sensor module on that list, as it doesn’t appear to be included in the actual schematics, but…”

Shortly thereafter Verde was fabricating new parts. “There we go. A Control Console, a Relay Dish, and a Molecular Beam Emitter, as ordered. We can always scrap all of it after and reuse the parts.”

“Yep, and again, thank you. This makes things much simpler. We’ll head back to Starlight and shift these over, into place. I expect my contacts will already be on their way, to run the damn thing and send me off to what they expect will be a certain death.”

Verde rolled his eyes. “Not likely. But it would make for a hilariously stupid death for your resumé.”

Tsuna blew a flat raspberry and huffed off.

Of course, they got back to Starlight well before anyone from HQ could possibly have hoofed it that far, so they were able to shift everything into place and get it hooked up to power without anyone but the crows to witness it. And a handful of bloatflies.

“Um… Guess we just relax until they get here. Valentine!”

“Eh?”

“Do you know how to play Cluedo?”

“Eh?” Valentine repeated.

Tsuna rubbed his hands together like a villain.

“Status report,” Desdemona said, eyeing up the apparatus.

“We got activity, Dez. Not sure how long before it peaks,” Tom said from his position at the console.

“The Institute is a huge unknown. Before we can make any plans you need to do something. What I’m about to tell you is the most closely guarded secret the Railroad has. It’s time you learn about Patriot. There’s a man—or woman, we’re not sure—inside the Institute who helps synths escape to freedom.

“Dozens of synths owe him their lives. We don’t know his name, we’ve never had a way to contact him. So we gave him the code-name Patriot. If your plan works, and you’re able to get inside the Institute, we need you to make contact.”

“How would I go about that? We know nothing about this person.”

“Patriot devised a method to communicate with us one-way. The plan hinges on us using this method to close the loop and contact him back. Tom’s encrypted a message for Patriot’s eyes only. Once he sees it, he should contact you. So, until you make contact, and probably after, you need to stay in their good graces. You need to infiltrate them. Can you do that? Can you be our agent on the inside?”

“So, lie. Tell them what they want to hear.”

“Yes. You’re going to have to sell them a lie. It’s best to stick as close to the truth as possible. And you’re going to have to think on your feet. We don’t know what’s waiting for you. If you make it at all.”

He appreciated the fact that she didn’t sugar-coat things, and give assurances that she was certain any of this would work. “Bring it on,” he said.

“You can do this, I believe in you. Here, take this,” she said, offering up a holotape. “Just plug it into any Institute terminal and wait for the reply. Now stand on the platform. Tom, talk to me.”

He took it and got into position, slipping the holotape into his pocket. He had already asked Valentine to stick with the others, told him that they would either take him to the house, the vault, or to Ellie, because this particular trip was one person only—using the device, anyway. Daemon, Sin, and Chikusa would be following along after Valentine was re-situated, and after Tsuna opened a window to them so they could see where to step to, so they could _Edge_ along in his wake.

Valentine had replied, “Inside the Institute right now is the last place I’d want to be. I’m happy enough to wait on your return. I have faith you’ll get there just fine, and get back.”

“Booting up the scan sequence,” Tom said. “This frequency is only going to work once. You-Know-Who doesn’t make the same mistake twice. So, stand still. Gotta lock in all those molecules of yours. Hopefully we won’t miss any… There’s only, you know, sixty trillion of them… All right, feeding our baby some juice. Let’s see what she’s got.”

Tsuna flinched when one of hoses on the Molecular Beam Emitter broke loose and hosed steam or something all over the place, even though he had been expecting it to happen. Sparks were flying and arcs of electricity kept flashing in front of his face.

“Oh, man,” Tom said. “Don’t worry! That’s … that’s all part of the plan.”

“Tom!” Desdemona said, having to raise her voice to nearly a shout to be heard over the sound of the machinery at work. “Do whatever you can to gain their trust. Lie, tell them what they want to hear. Make up a cover story and sell it.”

“C’mon. I think I got it. Establishing lock on the Institute signal.”

“Just get all the information you can. About synths. About the Institute’s plans. Find their weaknesses. If we can disable or destroy the Institute, we may have to do it. You jack that holotape into any terminal, and Patriot will make contact. He has to.”

“Got the RF! We got it!”

The last thing he heard as blue enveloped his vision was, “Find a way to save them. Nobody else can.”

When his vision cleared he was in a circular room, a door right in front of him, open to the next room, and in that were consoles immediately visible. Why no one was manning those consoles was a mystery.

He knew it would take some time for Desdemona and Tinker Tom to get out of sight, for his family to deliver Valentine to wherever he preferred, so he resolved to walk slowly everywhere, take his time. He could always share what they missed in a pensieve.

He moved forward, out of the Relay, and noticed an area off to the left that was fairly dark. For some reason there was what looked like a spacey, sci-fi bed or gurney up there—it might have been a bench? A walk over there revealed it went back a fair way, and there was a massive pipe running along the wall, with a curved red door near where the pipe continued on through the back wall.

An access point for the Minutemen, if he recalled correctly.

As he was looting the—looking around the area he heard, “Hello. I wondered if you might make it here. You’re quite resourceful. I am known as Father; the Institute is under my guidance. I know why you’re here. I’d like to discuss things with you, face-to-face. Please, step into the elevator.”

A glance down the hall (which immediately led to stairs down) showed a tubular lift spinning as a platform appeared, and the door sliding open. Sadly, Tsuna could not figure out where the cameras or speakers were, which was highly annoying.

The console had a terminal he could use and, while it had never been an issue in the game, he played it safe. Mist was employed to hide his actions when he went to access it.

> #### ==== Institute Central Network ====  
>  Access Terminal 001-B  
>    
>  [View Access Log]  
>    
>  Recent Access:  
>  X3-24 — Validation X34VR/QN4G8/BT0FV/5ZD2A  
>  X6-57 — Validation M88LT/CP2T3/AS4YB/1RG8N  
>  XXXXX — ERROR, SIGNAL RE-ROUTED

Hilarious how it only showed the last three access logs, and not pages of them. Tsuna loaded in the holotape he had been given and was presented with:

> #### Transmitting $TTomKey...  
>  Symmetric key found...  
>  Handshake successful.  
>    
>  Command?  
>    
>  [Initiate network scan]  
>  [Message from Tom]  
>  [Copy encrypted message]

For the second:

> #### The Big D demanded a tutorial be included, so here it is.  
>    
>  Short version: Plug this into any Institute terminal and copy the message.  
>    
>  Long Version: PATRIOT's been sending us short coded messages for years using an evil little encryption scheme. It was a bitch and a half to reverse-engineer (PATRIOT's got skill!), but I nailed it. Put this holotape on any Institute terminal and it'll deliver a gift-wrapped message straight to PATRIOT. You’re going into the belly of the beast, friend, don't trust anything.  
>    
>  TT out

For the first, even though it was not mentioned in the instructions given:

> #### Downloading...  
>  Downloading...  
>  Downloading...  
>  Downloading...  
>  Scan complete.

Come to think of it, he never remembered sharing the holotape in-game with Tinker Tom after all this, so he had no clue what the network scan was for. So he went with the third option:

> #### Copying Message001.  
>  Copy comple%*)!XJ*@($BREAK$BREAK  
>  %Detected foreign program "!HolotapeHijack"  
>  Copying UrgentReply001 from terminal.  
>  Copy complete.

He was presented with a new option once he backed up a level. How convenient that Patriot must have been using a terminal at the time and noticed so damn quickly.

> #### [Read "UrgentReply001"]  
>    
>  Acknowledged. Meet at Advanced Systems maintenance room.

Tsuna ejected the holotape, tucked it away safely, and headed, slowly, for the lift. On the way down the stairs he opened a private-mode window to check in on his family. They were all waiting for him, Verde and Valentine included, so he gave the barest hint of a smile. Daemon, Sin, and Chikusa all disappeared from view, and he could feel them suddenly nearby, _Edging_.

The room at the base of the stairs was small, with the lift directly ahead, and a door in the shadows off to the left. The access, if he recalled correctly, they would take when they blasted in to destroy the place, since the lift would have been locked down.

He entered the lift and pressed the red button there, and watched as the door slid shut. The lift began to slowly drop and that voice started up again. Father.

“I can only imagine what you’ve heard, what you think of us. I’d like to show you that you may have … the wrong impression.”

Yeah, not fucking likely, he saw flash up.

“Welcome to the Institute,” he heard as the lift dropped down far enough that he had entered the main area. “This is the reality of the Institute. This place, these people, the work we do.” Clear glass or plastic tube-tunnels ringed the upper level, as walkways. Residential rooms studded the wide, arching columns, two to a side, mostly, each with their own balcony, and departments—divisions—were tucked in between them, along the outer wall.

“For over a hundred years, we’ve dedicated ourselves to humanity’s survival. Decades of research, countless experiments and trials… A shared vision of how science can help shape the future.”

Smaller areas were at the bases of those columns, such as medical, a small dining area with a synth to provide Institute-crafted food mixtures and purified water. The walkways were clear, with a subtle hexagon pattern, to show off the water running underneath or down stepped waterfalls, and grass (possibly an analogue to AstroTurf, but just as likely to be real), small trees…

“It has never been easy,” he heard as the lift dropped down below the main level, “and our actions are often misinterpreted by those above ground. Someday, perhaps, we can show them what we’ve accomplished. But for now, we must remain underground.”

The lift came to a gentle stop and the door slid around to the open position. He was facing a hallway. The walls were a generic light grey, with a subtle pattern, with yellow as the accent colour in the form of a wide, horizontal stripe, or on the edges of the floor mats. There was something that looked like it could be a camera dead ahead, above the doorway. It might also have a speaker included.

“There’s too much at stake to risk it all,” Father continued, the sound switching from the interior of the lift to outside it. “As you’ve seen, things above are … unstable. I’d like to talk to you about what we can do … for everyone.”

At the end of the hallway it turned right, and he could see another door to the left through a frame, with a red button pedestal outside it.

“But that can wait. You are here for a specific reason.”

It was another lift, this time enclosed with opaque walls. He entered, hit the button inside, and was brought back up again. The view from the door showed banks of consoles on the left wall, with a myriad of blinking or steady lights. Ahead was a door to a small sub-room, mostly glass-walled and, inside it, was the child, dressed in an Institute jumpsuit.

The outer room also contained some chairs, a desk, a bench sofa, and a stab at decorating with a radio and two vases with flowers in them. The effect was horrifyingly sterile. The floor was a charcoal grey, in that subtle pattern again, like interlocking triangular scales almost. Next to the desk was a door, which was locked (or as the game would put it, “Requires Key”), and another door just to the right of the enclosure the child was in.

He did the expected and tried to speak with the child. “Shaun?”

“Huh?” The child was seated, facing away, and apparently either selectively deaf or simply that incurious as to not pay attention to the sound of Tsuna’s footsteps. “Yes… I’m Shaun…” The child got up and turned to face him.

“Hi there.”

“Who… Who are you?”

“A friend. Where is everyone?”

“Father… What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?” He had to wonder at Father’s reaction to his rather deadpan delivery and general appearance of not giving a shit.

“What’s going on? Father? Father!”

“Whoa there. Why are you so afraid?”

“I don’t know you! Go away! Father! Father, help me! There’s someone here! Help me! Father? Father! Help me! He’s trying to take me! Father! Help me!”

Tsuna was relieved when that damn door finally slid open and Father rolled in, dressed in a white shirt, green jumper, and a long, white, quilted coat. It was a wonder he had on brown trousers and normal shoes rather than complete the look of Cult Leader.

“Shaun… S9-23 Recall Code Cirrus.”

The kid shut down, his body hunching over a bit and his chin dropping.

“Fascinating, but disappointing. The child’s responses were not at all what I anticipated. He’s a prototype, you understand. We’re only just now beginning to explore the effects of extreme emotional stimuli. Please try and keep an open mind,” he said, his hands raising as if in supplication, and pissing Tsuna off for his murder of the English language.

“I recognize that you are emotional—”

As if that’s something to be horrified by.

“—and that your journey here has been fraught with challenges.”

Who the fuck says fraught?

“Let’s start anew. I am Father. Welcome to the Institute.”

“Father, huh? Is that your name? Or a title?”

“ ‘Father’ is my unofficial title. It’s what I’ve come to mean to the people of the Institute.” He looked amazingly like Nate, and nothing whatsoever like Tsuna (in any form).

“Oh, hey, all we’re missing are the teacups and the White Rabbit,” he said, plastic smile in place briefly.

“Ah, levity. Excellent. A sure sign that you adapt quickly to stressful environments.”

You’re not a fuckin’ science project for this asshole.

I am, though, in his eyes, he wrote back.

“But I need you to realize that this situation is far more complicated than you could have imagined. You have traveled very far. Well, your tenacity and dedication have been rewarded. It’s good to finally meet you, after all this time. It’s me. I am Shaun,” Father said, raising one hand to press against his chest.

“How is that even possible?” he asked, shaking his head slightly.

“I know this is a lot to take in.”

Kami-sama! This is one condescending bastard. I really want to punch him.

Punching is my job, he wrote back.

“In the vault, you had no concept of the passage of time. You believed that ten years had passed. Is it really so hard to accept that it was not ten, but sixty years? That is the reality. And here I am. Raised by the Institute … and now its leader.”

Thoroughly indoctrinated, you mean.

“Why though? Why take a child? Why take you?”

“Ah, now that’s the question, isn’t it. ‘Why me?’ At that time, the year 2227, the Institute had made great strides in synth production. But it was never enough. Scientific curiosity, and the goal of perfection, drove them ever onward. What they wanted was … the perfect machine. So they followed the best example thus far—the human being. Walking, talking, fully articulate… Capable of anything.”

“So the weird science experiments needed specimens,” he said, briefly adopting a sassy pose of one hand on his hip. “That’s why they took you?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. The Institute endeavored to create synthetic organics. The most logical starting point, of course, was human DNA. Plenty of that was available, of course, but it had all become corrupted. In this … wasteland … radiation affected everyone.

“Even in their attempts to shield themselves from the world above, members of the Institute had been exposed. Another source was necessary. But then the Institute found me, after discovering records from Vault 111. An infant, frozen in time, protected from the radiation-induced mutations that had crept into every other human cell in the Commonwealth.”

Yeah, an infant, who could easily be brought up with their dogma, unlike the adults there who also had uncorrupted DNA. The people they deliberately killed.

“I was exactly what they needed. And so it was my DNA that became the basis of the synthetic organics used to create every human-like synth you see today. I am their Father. Through science, we are family.”

He has got to be the worst hypocrite, he wrote. We’re family, but they’re just robots, tools? Fuck him. He’s worse than the Tsow. “And you… You’ve been down here the whole time,” he said, making his voice hitch just ever so slightly.

“I have, yes. I know you must have questions. Please, anything I can do to help you understand.”

His hand went back to his hip in that sassy pose. “Kellogg, he worked for you?”

“Kellogg…” Father looked away for a moment. “He was an Institute asset long before I arrived here. It wasn’t until I became director that I learned of all the things he’d done, what kind of man he was.”

“You knew the man was a psychopath, but you used him anyway?”

“Would you have preferred that I turned him loose on the Commonwealth? At least keeping him on such a short leash kept the collateral damage to a minimum.”

Notice how the idea of icing the guy never came up? Cleaning up past mistakes?

“The Institute took advantage of Kellogg’s vicious nature. I will freely admit that.”

The Institute, he says. Not him, you notice.

“Institute technology prolonged his life, and his usefulness, far beyond any normal human lifespan. He never failed the Institute, but his cruelty became more apparent with every completed objective.”

Yeah, it’s called being a rabid dog. You put those down, moron, not give them more work.

“I won’t lie; it’s no coincidence your path crossed his. It seemed a fitting way to have some amount of revenge.”

He used you to do the dirty work, in other words.

“What else can I say to ease your mind?”

His hand dropped off his hip. “So you’re … in charge of the Institute?”

“I am the acting director, yes. I spent decades working to reach this point. It’s a responsibility I take very seriously.”

Acting director? That usually indicates there’s a real one and they’re off on holiday or something.

“The Institute… It’s important. It really is humanity’s best hope for the future, no matter what those above ground might think of us.”

Someone’s been doing kegstands with the Kool-Aid.

Tsuna almost snorted. Valentine would absolutely not get that reference.

“It doesn’t matter what they think. What matters is what you do.”

Father sighed as if in relief, completely misinterpreting what he said, or deliberately. “I’m glad we see it the same way. Ultimately the Commonwealth has nothing to fear from us. Whatever you’ve seen or heard, I know I can convince you of that. Just … give me time. What else can I say to ease your mind?”

“I think I’ve heard enough … for now.”

“Very well. The Institute is on the verge of some important breakthroughs. Your presence would be … appreciated as we approach them. I’ve been a part of something amazing here. I’ve helped to build a life for myself and the people of the Institute, and now, after all these years, you have an opportunity to help with that. Doesn’t that intrigue you? Isn’t that what you want?”

“…You want me to stay here? In the Institute?”

“Yes, that is what I propose. Is it so hard to imagine? The Institute can provide a better life than anything above ground. You’ve been in the Commonwealth. You’ve seen what it’s like. I assure you that you are better off with us.”

His hand started to come up for his sassy pose, but he dropped it again. “…I don’t know what to do.”

“I realize that. It’s why I’m trying to help you.”

Jesus fuck. This man is…

“I hope that you can see that, rationally, the Institute is the only thing left in the world that’s worth being a part of. I simply ask that you give the Institute … me … a chance. A chance to show you what I’ve been telling you. We really do have humanity’s best interest at heart.”

Raised to be a scum-sucking politician. Not a fate I’d wish on anyone.

Father extended one hand. “Will you take that chance?”

“…All right. You … you have that chance.”

“Thank you. The Institute is now your home as much as it is mine.”

No, you said you’d give him a chance, not that you were joining the fuckin’ cult.

“Please, take some time and get to know it. Meet the people you’ll be working with. You’ll want to introduce yourself to the division heads. Dr Filmore in Facilities, Dr Ayo in SRB, Dr Holdren in BioScience, and finally, Dr Li in Advanced Systems. They’ve all been notified of your arrival, of course. Meet them, and then we’ll discuss what comes next.”

Yeah, because he was so sure he could convince you that it was already decided.

“…Yeah, I’ll start looking around, meet people. Get to understand … better.”

On the second level of Father’s little habitation was a sofa, a desk with some indeterminate machine on it, far too many short filing cabinets, what looked like a medical bed with accompanying oxygen supply tanks, and a desk with a terminal on it. If he went by the items cluttered around, Father was a drinker _and_ a smoker. (But then, it seemed like everyone was a smoker, even Valentine. Why could Gen-2 synths suck and blow?)

One of those cabinets had a copy of the password for Father’s terminal, which he nabbed after cloaking himself with Mist.

> #### Director Terminal 1A  
>  Status: Normal  
>    
>  [Kellogg, Conrad - Enhanced Life Expectancy]  
>  [Status Reports]  
>  [Personal Notes]  
>  [Director Access: Synth Shutdown]  
>    
>  July 16, 2285  
>    
>  Kellogg's occasional presence continues to unnerve the others. At first, I thought they were merely intimidated by his confidence and arrogance. Or perhaps even afraid of his general being. Kellogg is, after all, a killer. But as I've continued to witness their reactions, gauge their sidelong glances, I've detected something else, something I probably should have anticipated--jealousy.  
>    
>  Kellogg is a living memorial to a forgotten program. He is an augmented human being, a cyborg really, and the benefits he has received cannot be denied. But really, the scientists here could not care less about enhanced reflexes or greater combat efficiency. No, the cause of their envy is something more practical, more primal--his enhanced life expectancy.  
>    
>  Just how long will Kellogg live if he passes naturally (however unlikely that may be)? It's hard to say. He's already more than one hundred years old. Older, certainly, than any other human in the Commonwealth. His complete physiology has been altered. Perhaps he'll make it to 150. Maybe even 200.  
>    
>  Let the petty have their petty jealousies. Kellogg is a living testament to the ingenuity and superiority of the Institute. And I take no small pleasure in knowing that must irritate him to no end.

Status reports was boring, though it did note that the FEV Lab was offline and “Phase Three” under Advanced Systems was behind schedule.

Personal Notes, however…

> #### The wait continues.  
>    
>  Ayo can only confirm sightings outside Vault 111, and again in Diamond City sometime later. What that means, I'm not sure. Will we actually meet? Was this all for nothing?  
>    
>  No, not nothing. I will have learned valuable things about myself, my past, either way. I cannot afford to let emotion get in the way. I must simply observe and record.  
>    
>  I'm told Kellogg has gone offline. Strangely, I find myself thinking of Dr Walker. He had such high hopes for Kellogg. Such faith in the implants, and what they could mean. I still regret eliminating that project, but I know where it would have led us.  
>    
>  Walker was never shy about his goals, and too many others were starting to listen. In the end, I believe I was justified. The Institute is about preserving humanity, not some bizarre amalgamation of biology and technology.

Except, that’s exactly what the Gen-3 synths are.

The door up there led to a circular staircase, up and down. From above he could hear, “You call this a clean floor? Are your visual receptors malfunctioning? Can you not see the grime and dust?”

“My apologies, sir. I was issued a defective cleansing unit.”

“Don’t make excuses. You’re clearly defective, and I intend to report this. Perhaps after you’ve been disassembled, we can use your components to make something that’s actually useful.”

“Yes, sir.”

That’s not exactly a good second impression to go with the bad first one.

He trundled off toward his meeting with Patriot, passing by a Courser along the way, who said, “Welcome to the Institute, sir.” Another said, “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

So, they still think you’re Father’s papa?

Seems so, he replied. They might come at me guns blazing if they realized the mistake.

Down at the main floor he walked into another conversation. A science type was kneeling there, doing some kind of work on a Gen-2 synth.

“Almost done. Just need to tighten up this primary drive servo.”

“That’s the third primary drive breakdown this month,” Standing-Lady said. “As far as I’m concerned, the phase-out on these older models can’t come soon enough.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Most of them have lasted long past their projected lifespans. If you ask me, they were built pretty well.”

“I can’t argue with that. Even so, I’m ready to see the full Gen-3 roll-out.” Standing-Lady had a marker over her head, so she was a division head. Based on her appearance, she was probably Filmore of Facilities.

“There we go. All set. Unit, you can return to duty.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thanks again,” Standing-Lady said.

“Of course.” The tech or whatever she was departed, the synth departed, and Filmore began to depart, but was faced with Tsuna.

“They weren’t kidding. You really are here. Well, all right. I’m Allie, Allie Filmore. You can think of me as the Institute’s Chief Engineer. When Father told us about you, I could hardly believe it. You’ve been through so much, I think most people would have just given up. If you don’t mind my asking, what was it that kept you going all that time?”

“Family.”

“That’s … understandable. Now, I’ll give you a quick run-down of the Facilities division, and then I’ll answer any questions you might have afterward. As you might guess, we keep the Institute’s mechanical and electrical systems running smoothly. We maintain and upgrade all of the systems that make it possible to live and work in a place like this.

“There’s a lot of machinery behind these walls that recycles the air and water and provides power to the laboratories and quarters. The work we do might not be as exciting as some of the other departments, but it’s at least as important. So, now that you’re here and you’ve spoken to Father, does that mean you’re on board?”

Pushy or what?

“I promised him I’d give him, and the Institute, a chance, and I will do just that. But… I admit I am leaning toward staying. What I’ve seen so far…”

“Good to hear. It’ll be a load off Shaun’s mind. Take your time; get yourself acquainted. There’s a lot to take in; plenty of things you won’t find top-side. If there’s anything else you’d like to know about the Facilities division, I’m happy to discuss it.”

“Who built this place, originally? How long has it been here?”

“The construction of the Institute is the work of generations of scientists. The original survivors of the war, our progenitors, took refuge in the basement of the old Commonwealth Institute of Technology. Over time, their sons and daughters dug deeper into the earth and built increasingly sophisticated habitats and laboratories. It’s a process that’s still going on today. Even now, we’re digging out tunnels for new facilities and infrastructure.”

Tsuna nodded and faked a look of interest through everything she said.

“Just think what this place will look like a hundred years from now. I hope I’m there to see it.” With that Filmore walked off, not giving him an chance to ask other questions, not that he had any.

What, she planning to freeze herself so she can skip the boring parts? That was not a young woman, after all.

A white-suited Gen-2 synth was nearby, standing behind a counter, so he went over.

“Greetings. As the Institute’s requisition vendor, I can provide supplies for your missions on the surface. How may I assist you today?”

Hilariously, the synth took caps as payment. Though, on further thought, they would need caps if they sent a Gen-3 synth up to play normal human on some mission.

He wandered off again and ran into another conversation, this time an Institute type speaking to a small group of Gen-1s.

“Remember to keep unnecessary power consumption to a minimum. Don’t recharge unless your primary levels are below two percent. Also, if you haven’t patched your navigation software, do so after this meeting. The last thing we need is more synths bumping into walls. All right, that’s all for now. You can resume your duties.”

There was no marker leading into Robotics, so he kept going, and ran into yet another conversation, this time outside the Synth Retention Bureau (or SRB).

“You know the protocol, sir,” a Courser was saying. “Authorized personnel only.”

“So Dr Ayo thinks he can hide in his office, does he? Well, you can tell him that I intend to speak to Father about these unannounced security sweeps of yours. Ransacking my quarters in the middle of the night is totally unacceptable.”

“I’ll pass along your message, doctor.”

“See that you do.”

How any outsider could come in here, hear these things, and not be appalled is beyond me. It’s one thing if you hated or looked down on synths—I suppose that wouldn’t make a person blink—but to also see that the humans are being harassed? What, does Father expect you to be so blindingly happy to be “safe” that you’re selectively deaf all of a sudden?

Tsuna nodded slightly and rolled right on over to Synth Retention. He paused when the Gen-2 outside said, “Scanning unknown identity… Clearance confirmed,” and then opened the door.

“I’m seriously thinking of heading over to Robotics to knock some heads together,” he heard a man say.

“What now?” a woman replied.

“They’re dragging their feet on the targeting package upgrades I asked for. Maybe I should take some Coursers with me. You know, send a message.”

“Please don’t. There’s enough friction as it is between us and pretty much all the other departments.”

“You going soft on me, Alana?” He had a marker, so he was probably Dr Ayo. “My methods get results, and they will this time. You’ll see.”

Because abuse of power is always in fashion.

On a terminal in the room opposite where the conversation took place, he found a report on an escaped synth.

> #### UNIT ID: B5-92  
> Status: Unit located, reclamation scheduled  
> Assigned Courser: X6-88  
> Location: Libertalia raider stronghold  
>  Notes: Unit B5-92 has been mem-wiped by Railroad agents. New identity is "Gabriel". Unit now leads raider gang based at Libertalia. Shows highly aggressive tendencies, has killed several dozen rivals and civilians. Suspect brain damage resulting from mem-wipe process.

There was another listed as having been mem-wiped by the Railroad, now known as “Leo” and trained well enough to escape capture twice, but the real gold was under the list of informants.

> #### The following individuals have proven useful in our reclamation operations. In exchange for caps, these persons have in the past provided information on escaped synth sightings and suspected Railroad activity. If you make a new contact, add the individual to the database.  
>    
>  —Director Ayo  
>    
>  ==INFORMANT LIST==  
>    
>  CRICKET  
>  Occupation: Caravanner  
>  Location: Mobile  
>    
>  TOMMY LONEGAN  
>  Occupation: Owner/Proprietor, Combat Zone  
>  Location: Combat Zone  
>    
>  TRASHCAN CARLA  
>  Occupation: Caravanner  
>  Location: Mobile  
>    
>  DOC WEATHERS  
>  Occupation: Caravanner  
>  Location: Mobile  
>    
>  A.J.  
>  Occupation: Chem dealer  
>  Location: Goodneighbor  
>    
>  MAROWSKI  
>  Occupation: Chem supplier  
>  Location: Goodneighbor  
>    
>  LUCAS MILLER  
>  Occupation: Caravanner  
>  Location: Mobile  
>    
>  HENRY COOK  
>  Occupation: Barkeep  
>  Location: Diamond City

Wow. Just … wow.

Tsuna trundled off again, in search of Power-Abuse. “Doctor,” he greeted. The man, relatively dark-skinned, also suffered from vitiligo, though not as badly as Mama Murphy did.

“So, here you are. Justin Ayo, acting director of the Synth Retention Bureau. I’ll be up front with you. We’re going to be keeping a close eye on you for the near future. You’re a bit of an unknown quantity. I’m sure you understand. There won’t be any … issues, will there?”

He could sound a bit less hopeful that there will be.

“Considering that I’d think you crazy if you didn’t take reasonable precautions, no, there won’t be any issues.”

Ayo nodded. “Now, Father has asked that I provide you with a brief overview of the Synth Retention Bureau. Our primary responsibility is the recovery of escaped synths that are hiding among the human population on the surface.”

He shook his head as if puzzled. “Why would synths want to escape?”

“Synths do not want,” Ayo said firmly. “They might look like human beings, but they are machines. As to why they’re escaping, that matter is currently under investigation. Our main instrument is the Courser, a third-generation synth assigned to operate on the surface. Coursers hunt down and reclaim synths that have escaped the Institute.”

Could you rephrase that one more time? The clue hammer didn’t hit my head hard enough the first two times for the concept to sink in.

“They are highly self-sufficient, trained in combat, infiltration, and tracking. In a word, our Coursers are relentless. But I gather you know all of this, since you’ve encountered one already. In fact, I’d very much like to know how you defeated it.”

“I’m no stranger to combat.”

“Even so, a Courser should be more than a match for any single combatant. I suppose I’ll have to ask Robotics to perform detailed diagnostics on the entire production run. As if we don’t have enough problems. Now, unless you need something else, I’ll get back to work.”

“Just one question. If you’re the acting head of the SRB, who are you filling in for?”

“Dr Zimmer holds that position. He’s supervising the retrieval of some of the more … ‘high profile’ units. In his absence, I keep things running smoothly.”

As Ayo walked off, the woman he had been speaking with, Alana, said to Tsuna, “I know it’ll be a difficult adjustment for you, but try to remember that synths aren’t people.”

The room that Ayo and Alana had been conversing in had an electronic table map of the Commonwealth, and a bank of monitors showing images from all over the Commonwealth. So either they really were using crows as mobile cameras, or the cameras they were using were damned difficult to spot.

One of the images that flipped by was the exterior of Vault 111.


	8. λ34: 08: Commonwealth

## λ34  
08: Commonwealth  
“The line at the car wash—super long. Took me forever.”

Between SRB and Advanced Systems he ran into another conversation, this time between a science type and a Gen-3 synth.

“No visible reaction to the K-14 compound. We’ll start the next trial, then.”

The area looked like a small medical bay, with three infirmary beds, a tiny consultation area, and a reception-type desk with a terminal.

“The dosage will be much larger this time, and the side effects will likely be more pronounced.”

“Will there be any pain?” the synth asked.

“I honestly don’t know. I suppose it’s your job to find out. Now hold still.” Science-Type injected something into the synth. “There, all done. You can return to your duties, and remember to record every symptom you experience in detail.”

“I hope I prove a useful test subject for you, doctor,” the synth said.

“Mm-hm.”

The terminal there showed two interesting incidents recorded. One, a Binet, L, who had a wrist sprain, right hand, and who declined to say why except that it had to do with using a terminal—

One must wonder if this Binet person has textual porn on his room terminal.

—and a redacted report for an incident that occurred in the FEV lab and involved severe blunt trauma to the upper torso. There was a director override on it.

When Virgil broke out? Maybe?

There was a door to the right of the staircase landing, and terminal on the wall adjacent to it. Tsuna made a note of it and kept going. Inside Advanced Systems was someone practicing with a laser pistol.

“She’s been at it for over two hours. What is she even testing?” a woman said.

“Nothing. At this point, she’s just doing it for fun.”

He eased a holotape into his pocket, innocently sitting on Dr Li’s desk, and spoke to her. “Excuse me … Dr Li?”

“Ah, it’s you. You’re here, then. Yes, yes… I know who you are. We all do. While I’m sure Father is very happy that you’re here, I do hope it doesn’t interrupt our work.”

“I have no intention of getting in your way.”

“Thank you. I do appreciate that. Before I forget… Let me see that Pip-Boy of yours.”

Shit… Time for some slight of hand.

He did just that, using Mist Flames to cover the fact that he was hiding the one he was wearing and shifting in an unaltered Pip-Boy for her to fiddle with, and pretending to remove the one he was “wearing”.

“I’ve been told to install a Courser Chip in it for you. Father’s orders. You’re to be given full access, with the ability to relay in and out of the Institute at will.”

“I wasn’t expecting it, but that will come in handy, I’m sure.”

“Given that the Relay is the only way to access the Institute, ‘handy’ is something of an understatement. In case the significance is lost on you, you’ll be the only one here with that kind of access. If nothing else, it should demonstrate the amount of trust Father has placed in you.” She handed it back for him to “wear” and added, “Now unless there’s something else, I really do need to get back to work.”

He nodded and left her alone, shifting the altered Pip-Boy to a specific spot in storage. He would need it to visibly get in and out. He would also need to consider getting his hands on more of those Courser Chips—assuming someone in Samsara had not already sneaked some. He recalled, from Fallout 3, that Madison Li had once worked for the Brotherhood of Steel. But that had been under the auspices of the Lyons. It wasn’t a terrible surprise that she had ended up working for the Institute, despite not giving the SRB’s Dr Zimmer the time of day back in the Capital Wasteland’s Rivet City.

Dr Li’s terminal—once she had moved away from it and Tsuna could use Mist Flames to hide what he was doing—showed notes on Phase Three, Synth Prototype (new skin, motor control issues, personality matrix), Laser Weapons, and Misc. Projects.

Her personal notes read:

> #### The official explanation for the "accident" in the FEV lab remains unsatisfactory. Facilities has nothing; they simply refer me to the director. And he's keeping something from me. I've been around long enough to see it.  
>    
>  I wonder if he ever considers the ramifications of what he's asked me to do? If he worries that having me build a synth that's supposed to approximate him as a child might give me some unintended insights into his character? Probably not. And to be honest, it probably won't.

Over by the staircase between Advanced Systems and BioScience was the little “diner”. And another conversation.

“Is it true food supplement 77 has been discontinued?” a science type asked of the Gen-2 at the counter.

“That is correct.”

“That was my favorite one. Can’t we keep it a little longer?”

“I will be happy to forward your request to the BioScience division. In the meantime, please feel free to enjoy one of our other nutritious and flavorful food supplements.”

“I want supplement 77,” Science-Type said in a whiny, petulant manner.

“I am sorry, sir, but that supplement is no longer available.”

“Useless machine.”

He sighed and kept on his tour. At some point, he or someone else was going to have to loot the place. No sense having all that material get vaporized later on. Preferably after he had Relay’d out and couldn’t possibly be at fault. Or be branded a kleptomaniac.

There was another door back there to the right of the staircase, but this one had a marker behind the wall. It had to be where Patriot was. He did the usual with Mist and ducked inside, then took the door on the right.

“I’m … meeting someone here,” he said coyly, as if this was some silly, romantic liaison.

“Hey, it’s me. So you’re the one who sent the encrypted message. How did you even do that? I wasn’t sure anyone on the surface would have a chance to crack Trinity. You know, the encryption algorithm.”

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m Liam Binet—” Said with no hesitation whatsoever, surprisingly. “—my father runs Synth Development. And everyone knows who you are.”

“Ah. Well, a very smart associate of mine cracked your encryption.”

“He must’ve had some serious hardware to pull that off. Wow.”

Oh, you poor sheltered bastard.

“Your message was only one word: ‘friend’. What did you mean by that?”

“I was sent by the Railroad to attempt to make contact with the one they call Patriot. That’s you.”

“What? The Railroad. As in _the_ Railroad? And they gave me a code name, too? I kept sending synths to the surface hoping someone would help them. I hoped the Railroad got to some of them, but I never knew for certain.”

“You’ve saved a lot of synths.” Never mind that since don’t age, they’ll eventually be found out, especially since they don’t know they’re synths in the first place after a memory replacement job. Too many people in this dimension are logic-missing.

“So much to take in. But, wait. With you in the picture, I have this idea. To rescue a lot of synths at once. But we’ll need help. Where’s he working now? Right, let’s go to the West Atrium. You know, my father thinks it’s a living hell on the surface. But that can’t be right. Heck, you look positively normal to me. Uh, no offense. I’m not sure if we could ever make the surface actually a decent place to live. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least try to help, you know?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. The surface being a living hell, I mean.”

Binet looked skeptical—at least as far as body language went—but he walked leisurely to the “West Atrium” (read: one of the seating areas above the stepped waterfalls) and had a seat on a bench.

“Z1-14,” he said lowly. “It’s me.”

Because to a synth, we squishy humans all look alike or something? Geez.

“Sir,” said Z1-14, who had been raking up fallen leaves from the tree shadowing the bench. “Do you require something?”

“It’s okay, Z1. He’s a friend. He’s with the Railroad,” he practically whispered.

“Meeting here is dangerous. And you bring a stranger. You. How do I know we can trust you?”

“Because every member of the Railroad has dedicated their lives to fight for your freedom. And they were instrumental in helping me to get here.”

“I… I thought only Mr Binet cared. But your friends actually fight for us?”

“That’s what the Railroad does, Z1. He’s from the surface.”

“I’ve never met another human willing to help… But, sir, we must make this quick.”

“Right now,” Binet said, “how many synths want to escape, Z1?”

Stop using his designation all the time, damn it! He’s not a puppy!

“The ones I know for certain… Thirteen.”

“That’ll take forever. Let’s free those thirteen all in one go.”

“I would do anything for my people. But how do we get them to the teleporter? It’s no good. The old maintenance tunnels that lead there are always sealed. By the SRB.”

Binet hummed. “If I can find a way to open those doors, could you get your synths to the teleporter room?”

“Yes. We’ll talk later. Someplace more secure.” Z1 finished his raking and walked away.

Binet stayed seated, so Tsuna moved closer to him.

“Just a few high security doors, right? Controlled by cutting-edge SRB tech. Yeah. A head on hack is the sucker play. So we go at them sideways. You’re willing to help, right? I can’t do this alone.”

“Yes. What will you need?”

“Our core security architecture hasn’t fundamentally changed from the old C.I.T. days. The original security program was called Code Defender. Revolutionary stuff. We still have terminals running version one mothballed in storage. With some persuasion, I can get an old terminal to interface with new security terminals. Enough to open doors, at least. Problem is, I can’t even crack version one.

“So I need a good old-fashioned username and a password, and that’s nowhere to be found in the Institute. But if you could get me a pre-war admin password from the surface, I could log right in. The obvious place won’t work. The C.I.T. ruins were picked clean years ago, but some of the admins had to have lived off campus. Ask your friends… I need those login credentials.”

“On it,” he said. “I’ll get back to you as quickly as possible.”

Helpfully, BioScience was his last stop on the Brainwashing Tour, and it was right behind him, so he trundled on in. BioScience was also one way to get into the locked off FEV lab, where Virgil’s serum was waiting. Tsuna cloaked himself between one step and the next when the doors closed behind him, and ducked through the door on his immediate right.

Down that hallway was another door, which he went through, leading into a room cluttered with blinking wall displays, crates on trolleys, and shelving units stacked with gleaming metal crates. A door was back there, leading into a small anteroom. More crates, a space-age mop that looked as if it came straight out of _The Jetsons_ , wall shelves, and two more doors were inside.

The FEV lab was through one of those two doors, through the facing door in the resulting hallway, and through a locked door in the tiny room beyond that one. Tsuna, still cloaked in Mist, set about harmonizing through it, as there was no visible lock to manipulate.

He emerged into a place that looked like a surface building. Rust was evident, broken terminals, shattered glass, and a laser tripwire right in front of him. He hopped over it and rounded the corner, ignoring the little room right there for the time being, as the door was at the other end, and he didn’t feel like diving through the window, though he could shift.

He would definitely consider having everything that wasn’t nailed down looted.

The hallway adjacent to the security checkpoint (or whatever it was) had a series of decontamination arches. Given that it was the FEV lab, that rather made sense. At the other end was a “dead” synth sprawled on the floor and the door to that office. There were two backlit red buttons in there, and they toggled the maglock doors at either end of the decontamination hall.

Strangely, there was nothing to activate the arches.

Another door, another hallway (where the rust was twice as bad), and turrets to be avoided. Double doors at the end were locked, but there was a terminal there. Tsuna simply harmonized his way through, so as to again leave no blatant evidence of his passage.

The room beyond was a warehouse of sorts, with plenty of shelving, crates of whatever, and an Assaultron to be avoided. For some strange reason there were a lot of paint cans and boxes of Sugar Bombs cereal.

The hallway after that had a cleaning supplies closet, a locker room, and test rooms. Or cells. And a lot of dead cats.

One cell had a relatively innocent chess board in it. The one opposite? A dead super mutant, a toy truck, a toy car, and a dead cat. The third cell held letter blocks and blood. The final of the cells had a small table, a deflated ball, and a hunk of (presumably) cat meat.

He hopped over another laser tripwire at the end, then harmonized through the next locked door. That led to an L-shaped hallway with a door at the end, which in turn opened to his goal.

The FEV lab was brightly lit still. At the center were floor-to-ceiling glass or plastic columns, filled with a tinted liquid and super mutant specimens. Well, two of them were. The final one was shattered. Around that were various consoles. Desks ringed the outskirts of the room, and terminals, microscopes, and the like.

There was a holotape on one of the consoles, labeled “FEV Research Notes”. There was another with the same label, on another console a short way around. In a machine off to the side, on a steel counter, was the serum Virgil wanted so badly.

A third holotape, next to an Institute-style terminal, was labeled “Brian Virgil Personal Log 0176”. He could find nothing else of interest, so he swiftly backtracked by the expedient of shifting back to the entrance to BioScience. He would have used a time turner, but…

No one was watching, so he de-cloaked and walked forward.

For some insane reason they had created synth gorillas. BioScience was big on hydroponics. It was not quite the same setup as what Verde had provided, but he recognized what he was looking at.

“Welcome!” Holdren said as Tsuna approached. He had another of those convenient markers over his head. “So good to have you here. Dr Clayton Holdren, head of the BioScience division. I can’t wait for you to see the work we’re doing. It’s truly amazing.” He was perky, and perky was something that always set Tsuna on edge.

“I look forward to learning more about it,” he said, a sincere-yet-faked look of interest on his face.

“In that case, let me give you a brief overview of what we do here. As the name implies, the BioScience division specializes in fields of study such as botany, genetics, and medicine. Our most important directive is to ensure the health and well-being of everyone in the Institute. To that end, we cultivate highly specialized breeds of flora for use in food and medicine. We’ve even started to explore the idea of synthetic animal life. You probably saw the gorillas. They’re really just a pet project at this point, but the potential is exciting nonetheless.”

“It seems like there’s nothing you guys can’t do,” he said with faked wonder and admiration.

“With hard work and ingenuity, any challenge can be overcome. I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time as it is, but I have to ask: Have you decided whether you’ll join us?”

“I am an outsider,” he demurred, looking uncertain. “Would there even be a place for me here?”

“Even if science isn’t your passion, there are plenty of ways to contribute,” Holdren said encouragingly. “Our projects sometimes require an agent who can work on the surface to observe and gather information.”

Tsuna faked poorly-concealed relief at that.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re both fearless and resourceful. I think you’d be ideal for that kind of role. In any case, I imagine you’ll want to continue looking around. Or, if you prefer, I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

Tsuna was briefly distracted by a notification saying: You can now use the Relay to travel to and from the Institute.

“I admit to being curious about those synth gorillas. Can you tell me more about them?” Like where the hell they got the DNA for them?

“On the whole, I’d say they were a success. Their behavior does generally match what our historical data says it should be. Unfortunately, we had a few early setbacks. The creatures can become suddenly aggressive, and they’re quite strong.” Holdren’s tone turned regretful. “They destroyed two of their synth handlers, so now we keep them in an isolated habitat where they can be safely observed.”

He nodded his thanks and went to meander around the division and, incidentally, use Mist to cover any of the times he poked into their computers.

One terminal had notes about synth dolphins or other aquatic creatures. It also had a report mentioning that Warwick Homestead was in their eye for the surface testing of genetically modified crops, and that Roger Warwick was or had been already replaced with a synth duplicate. (In the game he had been, and it was a good reason to avoid the place for the time being.) Once the experiment was over they planned to purge the settlement of any evidence (which likely meant killing everyone there). The Status reports page made it clear Warwick had already been compromised.

Ayo had clearly been snooping around, as he had on other terminals in various departments. Tsuna kept running across his name in the access logs, but the notes always read REDACTED.

Holdren had left a general message for the people of his department.

> #### Now that our special guest of honor is here, I want to remind everyone to be polite, accommodating, and welcoming. It's not often we receive visitors from the surface, and this occasion is more special than most.  
>    
>  I know I can count on all of you to extend a hand of friendship and greet our visitor with the utmost hospitality. Let's embrace this exciting event and make the best first impression we possibly can.  
>    
>  —Director Holdren

On his way out he overheard Holdren and his associate talking about their operation at Warwick. Holdren seemed to be of the opinion that surface people were the “last remnants of a dying past” and that it was “best not to dwell on the subject”.

What really frosted his cookies was when he heard the response to, “They’re still people, and they’re suffering. We can at least admit that it’s regrettable. After all, how can we hope to redefine mankind if we can’t even hold on to our own humanity?”

Holdren’s reply? “Well, that’s a question best left to our colleagues in the Robotics division.”

And then, “Yes, well… I suppose you’re right.”

Are these people for real? The fuck does Robotics have to do with a person’s humanity?

He glanced at his Pip-Boy and saw he had two relevant quests. synth retention and underground undercover, for Father and Desdemona respectively.

Father could wait. Except, he wanted to make it seem as if he was sleeping on things and had not actually left the Institute. With that in mind, he went off to see Father anyway, but before the man could say anything he asked, “I’d like to sleep on things? I-Is there someplace I can…”

Father blinked at him, then nodded. “I’ll have someone show you to quarters. Wait just one moment.”

Shortly thereafter Tsuna was in a spare room—the one intended for him anyway—and stretched out on the bed once the door was closed. He formed a clone around himself and stepped out, to the others.

“Those people are insane!” Ken said.

“Preachin’ to the choir, darling. They are thoroughly indoctrinated into the idea that they are superior, enlightened, and have every right to fuck up the lives of anyone who seems useful to snatch or gets in their way.”

“I’d like to request you enter the area where they actually make the synths,” Verde said, pushing his glasses up.

“Oh, yeah. I can do that. If nothing else, it’d be good to have a visual of the place we could quietly step over to. I have all these holotapes to listen to, so…”

“All right, let’s hear them,” Sin said.

He put the first one in, labeled “FEV Research Notes” and heard:

> “Uh… This is Dr Elliott, with the official report for the Directorate from BioScience. The date is, um, August 2178. I’m pleased to report that, as has been the case during my tenure, crop yields exceed expectations. In point of fact, everything down here is fine … with one notable exception. Dr Frederick has informed me that the Directorate has pre-approved research on samples of the FEV virus, which he already has in his possession.
> 
> “Now, I’m not one to question the Directorate … you all know that. I don’t even want to know where this came from. But … well, this is troubling. Dangerous, possibly. I will do my best to make sure risks are minimized, but I really do hope that the consequences are understood.”

The second, also labeled “FEV Research Notes” held:

> “This is Dr Elliott, reporting for the BioScience division. March 2224. We just received another batch of … subjects … but as my previous report stated, we’re at an impasse here. More of the same won’t help. The two most promising strains of FEV have been adapted to an ideal state, but … we’re still missing something.
> 
> “I am officially echoing the team’s position: the most likely progress for our research on synthetic organics requires new avenues of exploration. Additional Commonwealth subjects will not help. It’s the same problem across the board: exposure to too much radiation. We need something … someone new. There’s a proposal we’ll be putting forward… I am not entirely comfortable with it, but it seems the best course.”

The third, labeled “Brian Virgil Personal Log 0176” said:

> “Personal record, Dr Brian Virgil. This will likely be my last recording. My requests to shut down the FEV program have been repeatedly denied. We’ve learned nothing useful in the last ten years. Why does Father insist on continuing it? If he won’t see reason, then I have to take matters into my own hands.
> 
> “What we’re doing … it’s not right. It needs to stop. If anyone should find this after … after I’m gone … know that I never wanted to hurt anyone. Anyone! Do you understand me? I’m gonna make sure the whole program is shut down. If not for good, then at least for years to come.
> 
> “After that… I know what I’m about to do with be seen as a betrayal. Treason, he’ll probably call it. So … I’m leaving. I have a plan … and if it works, I’ll be somewhere safe. Somewhere not even the Coursers can find me. Everything that we’ve done, the lives we’ve taken… If there is a god, may he have mercy on us all.”

The holotape from Dr Li, labeled “Advanced Systems Notes” said:

> “This is day … eight of trial six. The last week has been very productive, but exhausting. I think we’ll need a break after this. Binet has done some really marvelous work with the personality mesh. It’s … well, it’s almost too good. The responses map almost identically to expectations … some of the most life-like I’ve seen. Of course… It’s not really Shaun.
> 
> “None of his memories are in there. That, even now, would be a step too far. It’s starting to have an effect on the team, I think. I know I’ve been caught up in the moment once or twice… Just a second or two … forgetting that he’s not a real boy. Still, I think we’ll need to consider restricting him to the lab only for the moment. I’m well aware that others are … put off by his presence. If I were slightly more arrogant, I might consider that a sign of success…”

“There’s more, I’m sure,” he said. “But I’ll have to poke around some more. Or you guys can do so while I’m doing other tasks. I need to go speak to Desdemona, for one, go see Virgil to hand over that serum, then see what the hell Father wants after I ‘wake up’ from ‘sleeping on it’.”

“See Virgil first,” Xeul suggested. “He was quite helpful.”

He nodded. “I’ll do that now, then see Desdemona.”

“We have a window open on your clone,” Mukuro said, “so we’ll know if anyone comes to disturb ‘you’, and can warn you to shift back in quickly.”

“Awesome. All right. Valentine, you up for a trip?”

“Absolutely.”

He took Valentine’s arm and shifted them to the entrance to Virgil’s cave, then headed on in.

“Dr Virgil,” he greeted.

“Well, I’m glad to see the Relay didn’t completely vaporize you.”

“It was rough, but it worked.”

“Amazing. And what about the serum? Did you find the serum?”

“I did. I have it right here,” he said, pulling it from his pack and offering it up.

Virgil took it and examined it. “This is it. It’s really it! All right, let’s see, let’s see…” He moved over to one of his machines and to take a look. “Retrovirus has matured nicely. Density gradient is high… Recombinant counter-intron sequences look stable… Transcriptive exon strands have formed…”

“Protect and serve,” the wandering Protectron chose to say.

“Yes, yes. It seems to have matured nicely.”

“So it’s … good?”

“There’s only one way to find out. All right, here we go.” Virgil injected himself with the serum, with a slight grunt of pain, and set the injector aside. “And now … we wait.”

“How long will it take, you think?”

“I don’t know. Nothing like this has ever been tried before. I’m going to rest for a while. Come back in a few days, maybe a week, and … well, I guess we’ll see. In any event, you kept the end of our bargain. Thank you.”

Tsuna was sorely tempted to ask how he was going to survive in his rocky cave in the middle of the Glowing Sea if he reverted to a normal human and no longer had protection against radiation. He had yet to see any hazmat suits in the place, though he supposed there might be one hiding in a box or crate. Even so, was he super good at sniping radscorpions or deathclaws? How was he going to feed himself?

Instead, he and Valentine bailed, stepping over to the back entrance of HQ, and through the tunnel.

“Hey, it’s Fixer,” Drummer Boy said. “Fixer’s back!”

“Oh, thank God,” Desdemona said.

Tinker Tom whooped. “See, Dez, I told you the molecular stabilization matrix held.”

“Funny,” she said dryly. “You didn’t sound certain earlier. It is really, really good to see you. Did it work? Did you make it inside the Institute?”

He noticed Fixer had been lined out on the blackboard. The least they could have done was added a question mark. “I met with the leader of the Institute and it turns out he’s completely nuts.”

“Hmm. I see. And Tom’s holotape? Did you make contact with Patriot?”

“Yes, the holotape worked perfectly. Patriot’s name is Liam Binet.”

Desdemona smiled. “I knew you’d get the job done. We need every scrap of intel you picked up in there. Write up a full report on P.A.M.’s terminal. After you’re done, we’ll analyze it and figure out the next step. Get to it.”

He wandered off to do that. He had barely finished typing things up and hit the Enter key when a message flashed up telling him that the preliminary analysis had been completed and he was to consult with P.A.M. immediately.

Desdemona arrived just as P.A.M. said, “Preliminary analysis complete.”

“Anything we need to move on?”

“Affirmative. Code name Patriot requires admin credentials for Code Defender security software. Cross-indexing C.I.T. Security Administrators with 2077 Commonwealth Census Records. Filtering by surviving structures. One match found: Bergman, Wilfred. Bergman, Wilfred registered as co-owner of Cambridge Polymer Labs. Estimated eighty-one percent chance of login credentials being located at this facility.”

“I’ll head there, then.”

“After you get the password report back here. With any luck, we’ll have a game plan by then.”

He checked the time and nodded. “That Meet and Greet didn’t take as long as I thought. All right, let’s mosey.”

In the ruined building exit he said, very quietly, “I’m going to make both of us very unnoticeable, because those labs are practically right next door to C.I.T. We get there, head straight to it, then it goes back to normal.”

Valentine nodded, so Tsuna cloaked them both, then shifted them to just outside the ruins. Keeping his hold on Valentine, he tugged him off in the correct direction and through the door, at which point he dropped the cloak. Daemon, Sin, and Chikusa faded into view as well.

A Mr Handy glided over almost immediately and said, “Welcome to the Cambridge Polymer Labs.” Or should that be a Miss Handy, as the robot had a distinctly female voice? “Employment opportunities await in the field of scientific research. Shall we begin your application now?”

“Sure,” he said cheerfully. “The world may have ended, but why not sit at a desk all day?”

The sarcasm went right over its head. “Let’s see what employment opportunities we have available for someone given your qualifications. Due to increased demands for staff in all fields, we have condensed the employment test accordingly. Question one: Do you possess previous experience with polymer synthesis?”

“Sounds like you need me regardless, so let’s get down to brass tacks.”

“Calculating test results. I am pleased to offer you the position of ‘Sales Coordinator’. Expect a loquacious future in haggling for military funding. Would you like the orientation before beginning your work in the labs?”

“Let’s skip that part.”

“Due to staffing needs, we can forgo the orientation at this time,” the robot pleasantly informed him. Though why a ‘Sales Coordinator’ would be put to work in a lab… “Please follow me to the research lab, so that you may begin your work.”

As they passed into a kitchen area the robot said, “Complimentary beverages are provided for employees. Please label any food or cigarettes you leave in the break room.”

On entering the shower/dressing area it said, “Sales staff are provided with a business suit; the cost of which will be deducted from your first commission. Please take a moment to dress in your proper work attire and follow me into the clean room.”

Yeah, no, that ain’t happening.

“The research staff will greet you on the other side of the clean room. Thank you for your attention and welcome to the team.”

Once he had entered the clean room, the maglock door shut behind them. There was a terminal there, but he already knew it would be pointless to check it. The robot was visible through a large glass window. “I have been instructed to inform you that Director Elwood has issued mandatory overtime … due to uncompleted milestones. Consequently, staff will not be allowed to leave the labs until the Piezonucleic Lining Project has been completed. Please report to the project lead, Dr Elwood-Woolum, for specific research assignment. Starting decontamination sequence.”

A different voice announced, “No contamination detected. Please exit the clean room.”

Of course, the maglock door failed to open, so it was a good thing that the wall back there had been hacked through.

“So, yeah,” he said. “They’ve been here all this time? We’re either walking into a lot of skeletons, or a lot of ghouls. Probably feral ones.”

The door leading into the main area was blocked, but one of the wall panels had been ripped out, opening access into one of the side labs. Straight through was a sunken area with a lab table and a working terminal. He could hear the sound of ghouls shuffling about.

“Yeah, that’d be ghouls,” Valentine said.

“Keep an eye on that door while I check this terminal?”

The terminal’s user was Ericka Elwood-Woolum and it had two top entries.

> #### [Nucleostrictive Lining Project]  
> [Internal Mail Relay]

The first had several sub-topics, the first of which ([Project Thesis]) had him saying, “Uh, we might need Verde’s input here, unless one of you is secretly a scientist?”

The dead silence told him he should open a window. True, he could lean on his intuition or even search his memories of the game experience, but… Or hell, just get the password and step out.

Verde looked up and raised a brow.

“I’d like your input. Got some terminal entries here you could make sense of. It’s all Greek to me, so to speak.”

“Certainly.”

Tsuna opened a second window, that one facing the terminal, so that Verde could read along.

“…Next one, please.”

He moved on to [Thermal dissipation], then [Tensile strain], [Trapped], and finally [We’re so close].

“So, you will need gold, lithium hydride, and U-238. What are those consoles over there?”

“Uh…” He skittered over and paused by the sample case there. “Sample 11317. Well, that’s useless.”

“I expect those holders there will take the samples. The terminal may be capable of identifying them—at least, I would hope so. You may as well collect any you can find, then come back to this terminal and run tests. Otherwise it’ll be a tedious process of trying each and every combination of samples with the uranium. There may be a manifest somewhere with identifiers.”

“All right. I’ll get back to you if necessary, okay?”

“Certainly.”

He closed the window and crept over to the door so as not to make himself an immediate target for the ghouls they would have to shoot. On the lower level were several side labs, though one had a blocked door, the entrance to the containment level, and a flight of stairs up. One of the rooms held Sample 3111, which he took.

The next room over, which had a removed wall panel leading into the blocked room, contained Sample 413, which he took even though he was fairly certain it was wrong. Through the break into the next room he could see into the containment area, which had a glowing ghoul in it. That room contained Sample 65, which he was also fairly certain was wrong, but took anyway.

The terminal in there, which Sin hacked, gave them the option to open the Radioactive Isotope Containment room, which they ignored. Tsuna sent a window in, located the U-238 sample, and shifted it out.

Up the flight of stairs was the second set of labs, plus a bunch of desks off to the side, a soda machine, and a sitting area. Lab C1 had part of the ceiling caved in, forming a ramp. Sample 49 was sitting on a desk next to the skeleton of a man who had clearly committed suicide with rat poison in his tea.

The ramp led them into a maintenance tunnel or crawl space, which he followed around in a U-shape to get to a lab on the other side. The door in there was trapped with a laser tripwire and mines. A holotape had the password for the containment area, which he ignored.

A different holotape, labeled “Experimental ULA Schematics”, was new to him. It contained data on an “Experimental Underlay Fibermesh Armor”—in other words, a different way of gaining access to ballistic polymer weave. He immediately shifted that to where Verde would find it so he could play. Also in the room was Sample 611, which he was fairly certain was gold.

They exited, dropped down, and went to the sample terminal. Tsuna inserted two he thought were wrong (11317 and 413), then checked the terminal. It had an option to [Scan Loaded Reagents], which he chose.

They were identified, respectively, as hydrochloric acid and gallium. Sin yanked them both out and set them aside. 65 and 49 went in next, to be identified as tungsten and cobalt. They, too, were removed and set aside. 3111 and 611 were identified as lithium hydride and gold, so Tsuna handed over the U-238 to be added to its slot, then selected [Check Current Fabrication Parameters], which really didn’t tell him much of anything, not even the sample sizes.

The final option, [Run Loaded Fabrication Routine], started the process of coating a power armor torso piece and produced it at the end when a hatch-door slid open.

The robot repeated the earlier message about mandatory overtime, but then asked, “Have you completed the research on the Piezonucleic Lining Project?”

“Yes, the project is done,” he said, hefting up the torso piece.

“Wonderful. Mandatory overtime mode disengaged. Clean room override disengaged. The director will want to see this immediately. Please, follow me.”

They followed along like ducklings as the robot floated out, back into the lobby, around the corner and up some stairs, and down a hall into a room with half of it missing.

“This is Director Elwood’s office. I expect he will be quite excited to see the prototype,” the robot informed them. It flung open the doors and was immediately attacked by a ghoul, which it killed. It then floated over to the desk and said, “Sir, wonderful news. The Nucleostrictive Plating Project has finally produced a working prototype.”

After a short pause the robot turned to him and said, “I must apologize for the director.” Its voice dropped to a stage whisper for the next bit. “He hasn’t been himself lately. Must be the office flu.” Back to normal volume it said, “Payroll systems indicate that I have been authorized to provide you with a completion bonus at this time. Here is your bonus, minus taxes and benefits.”

He was handed twenty-five pre-war dollars, which wasn’t even enough to buy a cup of coffee and a donut right before the bombs dropped.

“Unfortunately, due to a lack of current projects we must layoff redundant staff members at this time. This is not a reflection on your work, and we will be happy to provide you with a positive reference. Shutting down.”

The robot flopped.

A quick loot gained him the CPL Director’s Key and some flamer fuel. That man’s terminal held his personal logs and various emails, but nothing of note, so he headed back down to the labs to get the password they needed.

Oddly, even though the email was written by Bergman, the username was _TWilliams_.

A quick shift and they were headed into HQ. Desdemona was holding a meeting.

“Half of you know this already. But something so big… I can’t ask people to keep it secret any longer. The rumor is true. One of our agents has made it inside the Institute.”

“Is this what Tinker Tom was working on?” a random Railroad member asked.

“Yes, Tom’s work is related. But the device and the assembly was Fixer’s doing. After the device was assembled, he made it inside the Institute and then back out.”

“Where is the Institute?”

“We’re not sure exactly. Best guess is that it’s somewhere under the old C.I.T. But, they’ve been using a teleportation device to get in and out—so it could be anywhere.”

“What did he find out?”

“I know you all have questions. But I’ve said everything I’m going to. But know this, the ops you’re planning and running now are the most important of our lives. We have a chance at rescuing more synths than we ever dreamed of. So get it done.”

Tsuna sidled over to Desdemona once everyone dispersed back to the usual and said, “I got the Code Defender login credentials.”

“Excellent work. On our side, we’ve gone through your report. It was … extraordinary. So many pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Our final analysis indicates the Institute is far more formidable than we ever feared or imagined. If we stage a mass breakout, Patriot’s thirteen synths will undoubtedly be the last we ever save. Instead, we use this one chance … to rescue all the synths. Every last one of them.”

“Is that even possible?” he asked, mainly thinking of how they could easily make and train more. That is, until and unless they were blown sky high.

“Hopefully Patriot’s core escape plan will scale up. If it can’t, well, we’ll deal with it as it comes. The Institute will never let their slaves go without a fight. So the heart of our problem is manpower. Even if we call in all our agents, and we will, we won’t be able to hold our own against the Institute for long. Talk with Z1-14. If the synths down there want freedom, they must fight and risk their lives to earn it.”

“Z1 seems passionate enough about helping—saving—his fellow synths.”

“We always thought Patriot was the savior of the synths. But it may be more accurate to say that Z1 is. As much as we owe Patriot, we can’t be certain how committed he is. If he learns we’re willing to kill to free synths he may not have the stomach for it. So get what you need from him and then cut him loose. Good luck. We’re all with you.”

After a meal, some sleep, and a check on things in λ10, he shifted back to the Institute and blended with his clone. Since his family already had a window on him, he needn’t open his own. Daemon, Sin, and Chikusa shifted in as well, _Edged_.

He “woke up”, went down to purchase a surely delicious Institute-style MRE and some Institute bottled water, then wandered off to go eat, coincidentally right where Z1-14 was working. A Bounding Box went up a second later.

“We must speak quickly,” Z1 said. “We cannot risk being discovered. I have made arrangements, I can get the thirteen we discussed into position. But… Tell me, do you think Mr Binet’s plan will work?”

“A better plan is to use this opportunity to rescue everyone. But synths will have to fight for it.”

“And I thought Mr Binet’s plan was too ambitious. Of course, I’d fight for my freedom. And I know of a few others that might, as well. But, enough to face all the guards? Perhaps … if we stand up openly to the scientists more of my people would join us. Yes. Even if most don’t join the fight, certainly there are many others who’ve been waiting their whole lives for this. But we should be prepared for some of the synths to fight against us.”

“You won’t be alone. My people will fight alongside you. And with that example, people on the fence will decide to join in, to fight for themselves, and the others. The opportunity is there, they just need to take it.”

“If the Railroad inspires everyone like you do, the SRB is wise to fear you. We will give my people an opportunity and they will flock to us. I admire Mr Binet a great deal, but we can’t tell him about this plan. It’s his people we’ll be fighting. I will talk to my friends. Meet me here tomorrow. If I don’t make the appointment, assume the worst.”

“Understood.” Tsuna dropped the Bounding Box and finished his “delicious” meal, then got up, found a bin to deal with his trash, then headed off to find Patriot.

“Synth unit, you were scheduled for maintenance duty in SRB last night. Anything you’d like to report?” a Courser asked of a Gen-3.

“Nothing to report, sir,” she said confidently. “I carried out my duties as usual.”

“Dr Ayo saw you accessing a terminal. You know you are not permitted to access terminals in that section. Is Dr Ayo mistaken?”

Not so confidently, she replied, “Yes… I mean … no, he’s not, but I was only…”

“What is it? Were you or weren’t you accessing a terminal in SRB?”

“I was, but I swear it’s not what it sounds like. I was cleaning the terminal and it … it switched on by mistake. I was just shutting it down.”

“Was that a stutter? Have you developed a defect, unit? Maybe you need to be reset.”

“Sir, I assure you that won’t be necessary. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. You don’t want me to tell you twice. Now get back to your duties.”

Well, this is all very Happy Families, isn’t it.

Once the Courser had fucked off he was free to duck into the maintenance hallway and have a clandestine meeting with Patriot. “I got the login credentials you need,” he said, handing over the information.

“You Railroad guys really deliver, you know? Hooking that ancient tech up to the modern terminals is going to be seriously time-consuming. Even with that password. But now that I have this I can get started. Listen, I need a favor. Z1-14 is working in the Atrium again. Can you give him an update? It’s safer if you do it.”

Tsuna nodded and wandered back out. Since Z1 needed a day, his only Institute task remaining was to speak with Father.

“Shaun.”

“Now that you’ve had a chance to see the Institute firsthand, what do you think?”

“You’ve got technology here that I never dreamed possible. It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you can appreciate what we’ve accomplished. None of it has been easy. Ultimately, all our knowledge and resources are focused on a single goal. The goal is best summarized by our motto: Mankind - Redefined.

“Unfortunately, no advancement comes without occasional setbacks. As remarkable as our synths are, they can be … dangerous without proper supervision. The superior synth mind and body attempting to wrestle with something approaching free will can be a recipe for chaos.”

“Define proper supervision?”

“While they are here in the Institute, fulfilling the purpose for which they were designed, our synths perform admirably. As you’re about to see, however, they can become … unpredictable when set loose.”

Oh? Like people? Perish the thought.

“A rogue synth has taken over the raider gang at Libertalia. His memories have been erased and his identity altered. He believes he’s a man named Gabriel. Under his leadership, the raiders have taken many innocent lives.”

Hypocrite much? Like the ones you’ve taken for FEV experiments or replacements?

“I’ve dispatched a Courser to Libertalia. I’d like you to join him and reclaim that synth.”

Tsuna nodded. “We’ll bring that synth home.” After all, even if it had been a normal human, he’d be considered a defect anyway.

“That would be best for everyone. Now, you should get moving. Many people are in danger and a delay could cost lives.”

Remembering that he said he would stop by Robotics, he headed down and paused outside. Verde is present? he asked.

Yes, he is.

Awesome. Let me know when he’s seen enough.

While in there he heard a fascinating conversation between two of the scientists. One, Binet (presumably Patriot’s father), was pointing out that if synths could dream (after listing off the supporting evidence), could they not have a soul? It might explain why Patriot acted as he had.

It was … distinctly odd, seeing how Gen-3 synths were made. First the bones, set against a template image. Then the muscles, then the skin…

He’s good. And we can always open a window to there so he can look again.

Tsuna took one last look and wandered back out, then took the lift up to the Relay so he could exit using his _other_ Pip-Boy.

Libertalia was in Nahant, and he had not been in that region personally, so he Relayed to just outside the C.I.T. ruins, then took off at a jog to find a place to shift from. He could have Relayed to Bunker Hill, which was fairly close, but didn’t think arriving in a flash of blue-white light was the best of ideas.

Back with the others he said, “Valentine, much as I hate to say it, you should probably stay here. I don’t think a hanging out with a Courser is a good idea.”

“Yeah, I agree. I’ll just watch from here.”

He nodded. “I don’t think anyone should visibly be with me. _Edge_ along? Sure. With that out of the way, can I get a visual on the closest spot you’ve been to out that way?”

Mukuro opened a window to the Nahant Sheriff’s Department, which was almost due north of Libertalia.

“Awesome. I’ll cloak before I shift, then just amble on out and meet up with the Courser.”

“It would probably take you at least an hour to make that run, so you might as well relax a bit, though I suppose you could drop a clone down there to make the run for you, then blend into it at the police station. That way…”

“If they’re spying… Yeah. Let me do that.” He created a combo clone, just so it wouldn’t pop at the first bullet if attacked, and shifted it down, then tagged a window to it.

“Back to what nutcases these people are,” Ken said.

“They are. I try to keep in mind that they were all raised this way, that small ideas stacked on small ideas and snowballed into this lunacy, but… I just can’t… Because to fix it, you’d have to brainwash them the other way, and that might not even work. It’s like saying we should have mind-controlled all those idiots who swore by apartheid.”

“We’re not alone,” the Courser said after Tsuna rolled in. Black-Trenchcoat had already killed two raiders who were unfortunate enough to be hanging out at the Nahant wharf. Two seconds after Black-Trenchcoat spoke, Tsuna could hear the distinctive sound of a vertibird. “Damn, I do not like this.” Black-Trenchcoat decided it was a brilliant idea to open fire on the Brotherhood of Steel, and was promptly shot repeatedly.

Power armor-wearing sorts dropped from the vertibird, and feral, mutant dogs raced in to join the party. Black-Trenchcoat brought both of them down and turned to shoot at the vertibird again.

We’ll shift those frames out after your new friend is in no position to see it.

The thing crashed into the ocean, and Black-Trenchcoat raced off after it to take care of any survivors.

He shrugged and said, “You must be the Courser I’m supposed to meet.”

“Yes, sir. Designation X6-88. I’ve already neutralized the perimeter guard. Just give the word, and we can start the assault on the main flotilla.”

“What intel do you have on the target?”

“Designation B5-92 is holed up in the shack on top of the up-ended cargo ship. He’s probably got his best fighters with him, so we should plan on heavy resistance.”

“Right, let’s go.”

“Right behind you, sir.” His speech was so monotone it threatened to put Tsuna to sleep.

He spent most of the trip sniping raiders from a distance, just so X6 could report back to his lord and master, Ayo, about what a stud “Nate” was with a gun, and that yes, he could more than hold his own (even though he suspected Sin was having some fun of his own).

By the time they made it to the up-ended ship there was only one raider left alive, and he had been napping hard enough to sleep through all of it. He went through the door to what should be the “captain’s area” and heard, “Hold up a moment, sir. There’s something important I need to tell you.”

“All right.”

“B5-92’s reset code. If he hears the code phrase, it will reset his cognitive processes and make him docile. You need to say ‘B5-92, initialize factory reset’, followed by the authorization code ‘gamma-7-1-epsilon’. Once he is shut down, I can transport him safely back to the Institute.”

“That just leaves his best men, so a little more violence will be necessary. Let’s move.”

After a quick jaunt through Gabriel’s quarters they found a ladder to climb, up to a hatch.

“Judging by your gear, I’m gonna guess you two are agents of the Institute. So, tell me. Is the Institute so desperate for resources that it’s stealing plunder from honest, hard-working Commonwealth gangs?”

He spoke the reset code and authorization. Gabriel wilted like synth Shaun had.

“Boss? You okay?” one of his men said. “Gabriel, can you hear me?”

“Shit, they did something to—”

A gunshot took care of that, and that one over there, and that other guy over there.

“Nice work, sir. I will take the synth back. …This is X6-88, ready to relay with reclaimed synth B5-92.” They bamphfed out in a blaze of blue-white light.

It was nice view off Libertalia. If one didn’t mind the Prydwen over there at the airport, so close by. “Job done, time to relay back,” he muttered. “But first, I need to go make more ammunition. I’m running low.” He gazed off at the ocean again, then ducked inside so he could swap with a combo clone that would thread the maze and get “lost” along the way to a mythical manufactory.

Tsuna shifted over to the house so he could take a damn shower, then make a real meal.

“How goes the vault building?” he asked when the others assembled.

“Not too badly,” Xeul said. “We’ve started building up from the bottom, using the staircase pieces that were secured in place to keep everything on track and properly lined up. They’ve worked it out so that each bedroom has two beds and an en suite, though it’s all rather bare.”

“Wouldn’t that make for a rather large bathroom each and a waste of space?”

Xeul shook his head. “Verde came up with specialty pieces. So basically, a one tile end piece—so three walls and open at one end—and the same with one open end and one door end. It’s enough to fit in the necessities, and the other half opens into the bedroom on the other side. It was decided that would be a better option than having communal facilities. Less irritating overall.”

“Huh. All right. Suppose they’ll have to work in a conference room somewhere, and suites for each head and their guardians. Won’t matter as much down the road when we can do up Spectacle Island and other likely places. Everyone would have a lot more space to stretch.”

“They also got the double-wide hallway properly connected and can start that tunnel over to Vault 75 at any time. Once they break through they can start cannibalizing the place, and putting in new stuff to set up a warehouse.”

“Shift the dirt and rock to Spectacle?”

Xeul nodded. “And the Earths can compact it down so it’s almost as good as rock.”

“If those synths are going to join the fight, they’re going to need weapons. While I imagine they can get their hands on some, I’m not willing to bet on it. So, can one of you scrounge up some weapons and ammunition to go with it all? Either fabricated or acquired from raiders or Brotherhood. If Z1 has any sense he’ll be asking for a helping hand there, so let’s anticipate the need.”

Hayato and Ken nodded.

“Hopefully it won’t take too many more days before this is over, and I can focus full time on our people. And also settlements. Give the natives safe places to live and work. I really want wall fabrication plans. Like thick ones. Maybe with embrasures.”

Tsuna relayed back to the Institute and went to admire the scenery again, coincidentally where Z1 was busy working. He tossed up Bounding Box as he took a seat.

“I asked my friends if they’d take up arms for their freedom. I was surprised at the number of volunteers. Perhaps once the fighting begins many others will join us. But we will fight and die very quickly unless we have weapons. A lot of them. Given the right materials we can make our own crude but serviceable weapons. Unfortunately, we’re missing a few critical ingredients.”

“I do have weapons I can donate.”

“Excellent. Deposit anything you can spare in maintenance closet 3-B. But we need enough weapons to arm an entire rebellion. So the ingredients are still necessary.”

He nodded. “How can I help?”

“We’ve come up with a plan to get what we need. The Institute’s always expanding. Excavation just completed on one of the sub-levels. The mining equipment has been packed into crates, and they haven’t been moved yet. That equipment has everything we need. Thanks to Mr Binet, the construction crew is populated solely by my friends. But they’re under constant supervision. How do you feel about killing some guards?”

“If it’s necessary? Yes, I’ll do it.”

Z1 sighed. “We could come up with no other way. After you eliminate the guards, we’ll move the supplies and blow up the tunnels behind us. To the SRB it will be a tragic construction accident that killed many synths. Rare, but not unheard of. And then, our ‘dead’ friends can assemble the weapons we need. You can access 3-B by heading left from here, toward Advanced Systems, and entering the door by the stairs. The room on the left. For the other, it can be accessed through the maintenance door between Robotics and the SRB. Good luck.”

3-B turned out to be the room opposite where he met Patriot.

“Sir, we’ve had another situation. A code red,” a Courser reported to a science type.

“What? This is the third time in two weeks. This is unacceptable. How could this happen?”

“We think there was a system glitch. We’re looking into it.”

“Damn it! You’re all useless. I’ll figure out what happened, but in the meantime, tell the others to be on high alert. I want more patrols and more rounds.”

“Right away, sir.”

“If you see anything even remotely suspicious, report it immediately. This absolutely cannot happen again. Got it?”

“Yes, sir, understood.”

Once those two had fucked off he entered the door to the right of the stairs, went down a short hallway, and into a fair-sized storage room. The door on the side wall opened to an old-style hallway, with plenty of rust and a lift at the end. At the bottom was another short hallway, opening to a storage room in the “modern” Institute style, plenty of synths, and a number of Gen-2 guards.

Tsuna walked up behind them and unloaded. He was pleased that the Gen-3 synths immediately rushed in to help from the side.

“Thank you, stranger. Leave now. Soon this will all be under rubble. Remember Z1’s plan, everyone. Grab everything we can use. The crates especially.”

Tsuna backtracked to the lift, rode it up, and exited back into the Institute proper. A stroll around the perimeter brought him back to the usual spot outside BioScience so he could update Z1.

“You have done your part, I presume. And we’ll do ours. Weapon construction will begin immediately.”

“This is a good start.”

“The greatest challenge remaining is keeping all of this secret from the SRB. So we’ll be very careful. Which, unfortunately, takes time. For now, please continue working with Father. We can’t afford for him to grow suspicious. When my people are ready, I will contact you.”

It was a short walk to Father’s residence. “Shaun.”

“I’m glad to see you return safely. I know the task was difficult, but I needed you to see firsthand how dangerous a rogue synth can be.”

“I admit I’m a little confused about something. Why do you care what happens on the surface? You have your own world down here.”

“Because there are forces on the surface that could pose a threat to us, and only a fool ignores a possible threat.”

Note the use of the word ‘possible’ not ‘certain’.

“We might diminish that danger by correcting the false perception that we intend some great harm to mankind. But enough about that. The task is done, and you’ve returned our synth safely to us. I couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. Well done. While you were away, I had those quarters you used properly prepared for you. You’ll find all the basic necessities, as well as a generous stock of arms and equipment. Go and have a look. I think you’ll be quite pleased.”

“That’s thoughtful of you. Thank you,” he said with every evidence of sincerity, then hastened off to go check.

X6-88 was loitering outside and, when he stepped inside to what changes might have been made, said, “When you’re finished here, sir, Father wants to see you.”

“Understood,” he said, then poked around.

Oh, look. They even provided cigarettes for you.

A short time later, after poking into every possible drawer, he raised a brow. Some microfusion cells and an Institute laser constitutes ‘a generous stock’? Somehow?

I’m more concerned about what sort of psycho puts the toilet roll on backward.

Another short jog back to Father’s resulted in, “Ah. Tell me, what would you do when someone has stolen from you?”

“I guess it would depend on why, but my initial reaction would be to get it back and make sure they never do it again.”

“Institute property is not often taken from us. We cannot react lightly when it happens. The group that calls themselves ‘The Railroad’ has acquired several synths from the Institute; synths that had gone missing in recent months. They no doubt mean to ‘free’ these synths, in their delusion that synths are somehow sentient beings. You’ve been in contact with the Railroad, so you’re aware of their misguided beliefs.”

“I think they mean well,” he said with a shrug. “Doing what they _think_ is right.”

Father shook his head. “You dealt with Libertalia. That’s the result of their selfish, short-sighted plan.” He sounded almost angry. “Usually they are a minor nuisance, but lately they have become more … emboldened. I’m afraid we’ve reached a point where a response is necessary. We have learned the current location of these synths and need to acquire them before the Railroad can hide them.”

He nodded. “Where are these synths located, then?”

“A small settlement at the old Bunker Hill monument. But it’s important that we act on this soon, before the Railroad has any indication we’ve tracked them. We also don’t want the Brotherhood of Steel getting wind of the presence of the synths. That would only complicate matters.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that those guys will shoot any synth on sight, even one they only suspect is a synth. They’re barbaric. Anyway, yeah, I’ll head out now.”

“You’ll have a contact waiting for you just outside Bunker Hill. Good luck.”

He booked it for the Relay, and relayed over to the BADTFL. He immediately replaced himself with a combo clone, checked the time, whipped out his time turner, and turned back so he could warn Desdemona in time for her people to get there ahead of him.

He sincerely doubted game mechanics would factor in that time and get all parties in place in the very short amount of time it would take for him to make the run from the BADTFL to Bunker Hill.

A quick shift, a job, and he was standing at Desdemona’s side. “Can I talk to you? It’s a time-sensitive issue.”

“Something on your mind?”

“The Institute knows about Bunker Hill. They’re planning to re-capture the synths there. Within the next two hours, maybe less.”

“The timing couldn’t be worse. The old man’s been sitting on those four synths. There’s nowhere else that’s safe we could put them.”

‘Then why the hell did I set up Mercer?’ he wondered.

“Maintaining your cover is vital—but this… The sacrifice is just too great.”

“Stockton and the synths are depending on us. We can’t let them down.”

“Well said. We’ve never known when and where the Institute would strike us next. But now we have a chance to turn the tables. We wait until the enemy is in position, then we hit them. Hard. No one they send out comes back alive—except you. Understand?”

“This is doable.”

“Well, any story you come up with won’t be contradicted. We can’t attack too early. We need to draw them into the kill zone and then spring the trap. You’ll know when. You’ll probably have a Courser escort. You’ll have to take him down. You’ve done it before, but it’ll still be dangerous.”

He nodded.

“It’s a risk. But it’s one we’ll have to take. So get it done.”

Tsuna bolted for the back entrance and headed out. He went invisible and stepped over to the BADTFL, and waited out the remaining time, then seamlessly replaced the clone when his original self turned back. He booked it toward Bunker Hill and the waiting Courser.

Already he could hear and see vertibirds in the air, which meant the Brotherhood had caught wind of something going down. Or they just got lucky. The Courser was waiting a bit south of Bunker Hill, in between two buildings on the left side of the road.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” it said a bit snottily.

“Yeah, yeah. The line at the car wash—super long. Took me forever.”

“Your attempt at humor is wasted,” Pissy-Face said with a sneer. “Our targets are inside: four synths under Railroad protection. Majority of the settlement is uninvolved, and are expected to run for cover. The situation, however, appears to have escalated. A covert approach is likely impossible. We move in, secure the synths, and I relay out with them back to the Institute. Clear?”

His attitude … won’t exist for much longer. Besides, he’s clearly defective by Institute standards if he’s showing that much emotion.

Tsuna let Pissy-Face lead the way and, as soon as they got close enough to the war going on up there, he slipped a frag grenade into the Courser’s pocket, then backed the fuck off. Pissy-Face exploded in a glorious shower of red.

The Brotherhood had vertibirds buzzing around, people on the ground, shooting at synths and Railroad people, the Gen-2 synths were firing at Brotherhood and Railroad, and the Railroad was shooting at Brotherhood and Gen-2s. Super mutants had joined the party as well, so it was something of a madhouse. The front gate had been locked down, so Tsuna had to use the side entrance. Inside the main building, behind a counter, was a hatch.

The Brotherhood had infiltrated down there, as well as Gen-2 synths. After they were all cleared out, he approached the synths, reassured them, and retreated. His marker pointed back toward C.I.T. and outside, so he knew Father was not relaxing at home, waiting for the good news with a cigarette and a glass of scotch.

He headed for the ruins, using illusion to make sure he looked like hell and was covered in blood splatters, then executed a number of jumps to get to the roof of the building rather than confuse the everloving fuck out of himself by trying to find the exact right spot to get to it from the inside.


	9. λ34: 09: Commonwealth

## λ34  
09: Commonwealth  
“So if we look, walk, and if worse comes to worse talk like an asshole with a superiority complex, we’ll be fine.”

“Shaun,” he said, then heaved a weary sigh.

“You know,” Father said as he turned to face him. “In all my years, I’ve never set foot outside the Institute. Not once … since the day they brought me here. I’ve never had a reason. But now … this just confirms the truth I’ve always known. The Commonwealth … is dead. There’s no future here. The only hope for humanity lies below.”

“So why come out here?”

“To put things into perspective, I suppose. Standing here … I’m reminded of how fortunate I am that I was spared a life in this … wasteland. I know that to you I was kidnapped from that vault. In truth, the Institute rescued me.”

And killed a whole lot of others.

“Both of us, really.”

“But… Why refreeze me?”

“As a failsafe, of course. I was the perfect candidate: an infant with uncorrupted DNA. But if something were to go wrong… If I died… Well, the Institute realized a contingency plan was prudent. Another source of pre-war DNA.”

Again, your precious Institute killed a fuckton of pre-war DNA.

“So, you were kept alive and safe within the vault. I admit, when I had you released from Vault 111, I had no expectations that you’d survive out here, in all this.”

So he released you so he could watch you suffer and die?

“To not only do so, but manage to find me… To infiltrate the Institute itself… Extraordinary.”

“So it was you. Why let me out, after all this time?”

“That’s… Well, that’s hard to explain. Certainly, it was no longer necessary to keep you suspended. I… Well, I suppose I wanted to see what would happen.”

Read: I see you as an experiment.

“An experiment, of sorts. Would the Commonwealth corrupt you, as it has everything else? Would you even survive?”

“Well… I’m … here.”

“It’s… Well, it’s remarkable. Soon I hope… I hope you’ll understand. Everything I’ve done has been for the future. A future which, I hope, is not in jeopardy after recent events. Bunker Hill did not go well for us. Would you care to explain what happened?”

“Sure. It was a thrilling fun ride,” he said dryly. “I relayed out to a spot nearby, the BADTFL. Didn’t want to come in so close that they were warned by that light show the Relay makes. Booked it straight to Bunker Hill and saw the Courser off to the side, waiting between two buildings. I could hear vertibirds in the air, but not tell which direction they were coming from. The Courser and I headed up the hill toward the target when all hell broke loose.

“There was a four-way war going on by the time we finished the last stretch of road. Our synths, the Brotherhood, the Railroad, and super mutants were all duking it out. My Courser got taken out by a grenade as he came around the corner. Blew his damn head off. And when I got down into their little bunker holding area it was more of the same, minus the super mutants. Laser fire everywhere, power armor stomping around… I’m sorry that the synths were destroyed, but I’m lucky I made it out of there alive, never mind with all my limbs.”

“You can imagine that I find that very hard to believe, given that all the intelligence leading up to this indicated we’d taken them by surprise. Bunker Hill was to cement your place as a valuable asset to the Institute. It will now only raise suspicions. And to see the Brotherhood of Steel involved in this… They had no way of knowing what was going on.”

“Shaun, I’ve told you what happened. Four factions were there already when we hit the street in front of the gates of Bunker Hill, fighting for all they were worth. The Brotherhood has vertibirds out all over the place. I can only imagine it was chance they were flying by and saw super mutants incoming, dropped off their people, which clashed with our operation, because they sure as hell would have fired on our synths. I don’t have a clue why the Railroad was there. That many of them? What, do they suddenly have a psychic on their side? Look, if you can’t trust my word, I don’t know what else to say. I just don’t.”

Father stared for a long moment, then said, “I will refrain from sharing the outcome with the Directorate for the moment. Things are already in motion that this would derail. Speaking of which… It’s time for you to become more involved in the future of the Institute. I’d like you to join me inside. The Directorate is meeting, and you should be there. I’ll be waiting.”

“Uh, should I clean up first? Or…?” He couldn’t help it; he started laughing helplessly, reaching up to cradle his face in one hand.

“I suppose you showing up soaking wet would be less upsetting than…” Father glanced over at the river for a moment. “I’ve seen enough. It’s time to go back in.” Father was relayed out a second later, so clearly he was not speaking to Tsuna.

Tsuna, for his part, did a reverse of his journey up to the roof, bolted for the river, and had a clone take a quick bath in his place. He altered his illusion to make him look like he had just taken a dip in the water in the event of spies, then relayed into the Institute once his clone rejoined him and was dismissed.

The conference room was above Father’s quarters. Tsuna quietly eased a holotape into his pocket that he noticed sitting there on a file cabinet, as he positioned himself to observe and listen.

Father was there, of course, plus Li, Ayo, Filmore, and Holdren. It made him wonder why Facilities was represented, but Robotics wasn’t.

“Good, we’re all here. I think it’s time we begin.”

“Sir,” Ayo said, “excuse me, but… What exactly is _he_ doing here?”

“I will address that issue, but there are other subjects first that require our attention first. The level of unrest in the Commonwealth continues to rise, as we’re all aware. Your report?”

The level of unrest that you people are directly contributing to, you mean?

“All Institute facilities remain completely secure, with … the exception of one notable breach. Otherwise, internally things are as tight as they’ve ever been. Dr Ayo has been keeping an eye on things topside.”

“Yes, ah… Watchers show no additional threats beyond those previously identified. Boston International Airport remains occupied, with Brotherhood presence noted at several other points throughout the Commonwealth. Intelligence suggests that this ‘Railroad’ continues to operate, and is becoming more … ambitious. SRB agents are monitoring all known situations, sir.”

“Very good, thank you. It’s clear that our safety needs to be the primary concern going forward. To that end, where are we on Phase Three?”

“Ah, sir… Are you sure that this is the time to be discussing it?” Li asked. “Given… Well, considering all parties present?”

“Ah, yes. That’s true.” Father turned toward him. “Have you heard anything about Phase Three?”

“I’ve heard nothing about this … Phase Three,” he said. Read about? That was a different story, and even then the information was quite vague.

“Phase Three is very important to us. Power is, as I’m sure you’ve seen above ground, a very valuable commodity. I’m not talking about some abstract concept of control, I mean real tangible power. The kind that keeps the lights on. With every advance the Institute makes, our need for raw power increases. Many compromises and sacrifices have been made over the years to allow progress to continue.”

“In this world? I’m sure compromise is a necessity.”

“Quite right. For far too long we’ve been dependent on others, on our surroundings. That time is over. Phase Three is, simply, the activation of a nuclear reactor that can provide enough power to the Institute now and forever. It will ensure not just our survival, but our prosperity. The reactor is close to ready, but recent tests have determined we have a few tasks ahead of us. Thus, we come to Phase Three. And to how you will help.”

“Sir,” Ayo objected.

“Yes, Dr Ayo. Previously we would rely on Kellogg for above ground operations, yes? Well, he is gone. And, he has proven more than capable of handling himself.”

“Y-Yes, but…”

“This is not a matter for debate,” Father said quite firmly. “Now, there is one more subject that requires discussion.”

“I don’t know that this is the time…” Holdren said.

“Dr Holdren, it is time. Please. As I’m sure several of you are already aware, I have been under Dr Volkert’s care for some time. I’m sorry, this is … difficult for me. Our best efforts have failed. Every experimental treatment we could devise has been unsuccessful. I’m… I’m sorry to say I am dying.”

As Father was looking at Tsuna when he said it, he adopted an expression that conveyed surprise, shock, and regret, all in a manly way, of course.

Exclamations arose around the table from the three not in the know, taking Father’s attention off him.

“Please, everyone. Please! I am sorry. This is not how I’d wanted to tell you, but we’re running out of time.”

“Y-You’re dying?” he said, making sure his voice hitched.

“I’m afraid so. A very aggressive form of cancer. Believe me when I say we’ve done everything we can. We can talk more … later. Right now, the future of the Institute is at stake. The Institute cannot survive without leadership. The Directorate must continue to govern with the best interests of all in mind. To that end, I am naming this individual … as my successor.”

I love how he avoids using your name—rather, the name he thinks is yours. It’s like his father is just an abstract concept to him.

“Oh, boy,” Holdren said.

“You can’t be serious!” Ayo said.

“Really?” Filmore chimed in.

“Seems a poor choice,” Li sniped.

“How can you possibly justify this?” Ayo persisted. “He isn’t one of us … he isn’t even a scientist!”

“Ignoring your borderline insubordinate tone, I will simply say this. The Institute has enough scientists. What it needs is a leader. He has already proven himself more than capable in that regard. This will conclude this meeting. Thank you.”

The four stood up and exited without a word.

“I had no idea,” he said, going for a regretful tone and a look of muted shock.

“I know this is … well, it’s a lot to take in at once. I’m sorry. I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me to put you in charge without even asking first…”

“Uh… What would it mean, to be in charge?”

“Most divisions of the Institute are fairly autonomous, perfectly capable of functioning without intervention. Where those divisions interact, however, problems can arise. You’d lead the Directorate in setting policy, resolving disputes, and the like. There’s no question that some of the Directorate, and the Institute at large, will need reassurances about your appointment. That’s why I’d like you to take charge of this latest operation. Dr Filmore can fill you in on the details. There are hard decisions ahead. For all of us, but for you especially. I know that you’ll do the right thing.”

Anyone who says that has an agenda.

He sat down as Father was slowly exiting the room, just to add to the whole act, and ran his hands over his face.

“Dr Filmore.”

“Busy day for you, isn’t it? Well, it’s about to get busier. You’re going to lead this operation, I’m told.” Her tone was just shy of snotty.

“Absolutely.”

“All right, let’s go over the details. Recent events have upset our timetable; getting the reactor online has become our number one priority. It needs to be running … well, yesterday. We’re going to have to cut some corners. I’m not thrilled, but it means we’ll need to rely on some pre-war tech. You’re going to the Mass Fusion building to acquire a beryllium agitator for us.”

“All right. Will you be coming along or…?”

“I don’t like going above ground unless there’s no other option, but yes, I’m going with you. Because, here we are, with our options dwindling quickly. Not to put more pressure on you, but we have to move quickly on this. Word is that the Brotherhood is nosing around the area. We don’t want them getting the agitator before we do. Head on up to the Relay, and I’ll meet you there.”

He nodded and started walking. The lift was right there, so he rode that up. Shortly thereafter they (she had slipped into a clean room suit prior to joining him) were off in a blaze of blue-white light. They arrived at the very top.

“Well, word was right. The Brotherhood sure is here. Guess we’ll have to go through them.”

He glanced back to see she was taking in the sights rather than doing something useful, then plowed on ahead to shoot him some knights and paladins and initiates or whatever. He poked around up a flight of stairs and scored a Mass Fusion Executive Lab Password holotape, and a Mass Fusion Executive ID card.

“No sign of the agitator,” Filmore said. “We’ll have to search the rest of the building.”

A holotape labeled “Oslow’s Office Recording” was tucked away for later listening. A terminal there, that the password worked on, had a bunch of emails on it, the first of which stated that the Beryllium Agitator had been installed in the primary reactor on sub-level 01, and that he would need that keycard.

They hopped onto the lift, Tsuna ran the keycard through the reader, and down they went, eventually ending up with a view of an open lobby and the many layers of floors that ringed around above it. Mass Fusion was a very tall building. The Brotherhood popped out of various doors for them to shoot and, as they neared a floored level, someone yelled, “Blow the conduit! Now!”

An explosion blasted out, and the lift dropped abruptly to a stop on the floor just below where they’d been.

“They cut the power to the elevators… It’s clever, I’ll give them that,” Filmore said.

Clever like talking monkeys?

More Brotherhood boiled out of various doors and openings for them to shoot, but when that was done, Tsuna went hunting again. An office off to the side held a Mass Fusion Labs key and a terminal, which had an option for rerouting power to get around the affected area (and get the lift working again).

Filmore was apparently psychic, because she said, “That should do it. Elevator ought to have power again.” Or maybe it was because the lights came back on.

The hopped back in the lift, he ran the keycard again, and down they went, shooting more Brotherhood along the way. The ground floor held yet more Brotherhood, and quite a few dead Gunners. In a side office, through a short hallway at the back, was another lift with a keycard reader. That one took them down to the reactor level.

“There’s the reactor. Not a bad piece of work, for it’s time,” Filmore said.

A glance at a terminal revealed the Mass Fusion personnel had some kind of quasi-D&D game going on through company email. Down a set of stairs was a terminal that had an option for Assaultron Control, but it was to activate them.

A terminal deeper in had an option to disable the security system, but when he chose it it error’d out.

“Guess they weren’t so good at mitigating radiation back in those days,” Filmore said. “Levels are almost off the charts. I’ll monitor things from here.”

Translation: I’ll stand here and do fuck all while you risk your life.

‘Shit, I’m gonna have to put on a hazmat suit.’ He headed into the decontamination hallway, swapped his clothes out as quickly as humanly possible, and hit the big red button.

“Now cycling airlock. Please wait,” a voice announced. “Initiating decontamination sequence. …Decontamination complete. You may proceed.”

He jolted into motion when the maglock door opened and stepped onto the catwalk.

“The thing we’re looking for—the Agitator—it should be in a port at the top of the reactor,” Filmore said helpfully.

He wound around upward until he hit the top, and hit the big red button up there. The reactor lights went out, and the sphere in the center rotated to present him with a handle. He grabbed it, twisted it, and pulled.

Naturally, that was when the alarms went off, red lights started flashing, and an announcement announced, “Security alert in the reactor chamber. Emergency lockdown initiated.”

“Must be an old security system,” Filmore said. “Watch your back!”

‘More like watch yours, lady. You’re the one out there with the security robots right now,’ he thought as he wound back around down to get to the decontamination hall, dodging laser turret fire along the way. Inside he hit the button again and heard, “Please wait.”

The arches sprayed the radiation goo off him, then the voice said, “Decontamination complete,” and the maglock door to the non-reactor section opened to let him through. After a quick clothing change he did just that.

How nice of the security system to wait for you to get back before sending out the death-bots, he saw as those maglock doors opened and a Sentry Bot appeared, Protectrons, and Assaultrons. Once he had taken care of those he could get at the terminal he really needed, which had been locked in with that Sentry Bot.

That had an option to turn off the security system. Except that error’d out, too. He headed upstairs, took out a turret and a Protectron, and the voice announced, “Lockdown ended.”

He rolled his eyes and headed for the lift.

It shook as an explosion happened somewhere overhead.

“These guys just don’t know when they’re beaten, do they?” Filmore said. “I’ll help the synths buy some time. Make sure you get back to the Institute with the Agitator!”

“You are cuckoo for cocoa puffs if you think I’m not going to help, Dr Filmore.”

“Wha…?”

The lift doors opened and he popped out, down the hall, and through the door, just to join the fight against more of those Brotherhood yahoos. They infested the lobby level, which had gained reinforcements on their side of quite a number of Gen-2 synths, perhaps in anticipation of both their success and the Brotherhood sending in a second wave.

Once the fighting died down he waited a little bit longer, just in case one of them had a nervous bladder and just couldn’t not pause to deal with it before running out to get killed, then exited through the main doors and used the Relay to return to the Institute.

A short walk brought him to Advanced Systems, where Filmore had mysteriously already managed to arrive. She was waiting at the back, near the laser-protected doorway. “I think that was enough excitement for … well, ever. Thank you, really. Couldn’t have managed it without you. I’ll make sure the Agitator gets where it needs to go. I understand Father is anxious to get you involved in something else. You’d better not keep him waiting.”

He handed the Agitator over, then reversed and headed for the exit. As he walked by Dr Li she said, “To be frank, I don’t agree with Father’s decision, but I’ll accept it.”

Tsuna kept right on going as if he hadn’t heard her.

As he approached the stair to get up to Father’s residence he heard, “Hm. How’s your energy level? Feeling any fatigue?”

“No more than I’d expect for a man my age.”

“Mm-hm. You’re sticking to the regimen we agreed upon?”

“Yes, doctor. I’m taking all my little pills.”

“Okay… And you’ve been getting extra rest?”

“Are there many more of these questions?”

“Interesting.”

“Yes, thank you, doctor, I think that will be all for now.”

It was amazing how well voices carried when someone or something out there wanted you to overhear things.

“You wanted to see me?” he said as Volkert wandered off.

“I understand Mass Fusion was a success, despite interference from the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“They’re persistent, but we handled them just fine.”

“That’s what Dr Filmore reported. I’m quite pleased at the results; it would’ve been a terrible setback to lose that technology to those savages.”

You’re both elitist bastards, you twat.

“The Brotherhood’s intervention must be placed in a larger context, however. Given their penchant for hoarding technology… Future conflict with them is guaranteed. We are, after all, keepers of the most advanced technology in the Commonwealth, if not beyond. It also cannot go unnoticed that there were … concerns … within the Institute. About your allegiances. I, of course, never doubted your commitment to our cause, but by directly confronting the Brotherhood I think you’ve put some others at ease.”

Yes, because bloody warfare always sets people at ease.

“I’m proud of you.”

Listen to him, he’s like a proud papa!

“Regardless, the Brotherhood is an issue for the future, and we must focus on the present. And look at me, rambling on like the old man I am.”

He’s sixty, not a hundred!

“I’m wasting time. You’re needed elsewhere at once.”

“Are more parts needed for the reactor? I could have gotten them while I was out.”

“No, but it is related in a sense. What should have been a simple situation has unfortunately become … complicated. While you were working with Dr Filmore, a small team was dispatched elsewhere in the Commonwealth. Dr Thompson was tasked with … inviting someone from the Commonwealth to join the Institute.”

“That sounds … unusual. I thought you didn’t normally let anyone in.”

“Usually you’d be correct. This time, however, an exception was made. There was no indication that this would be a problem, but the arrival of the team was an unwelcome surprise to Mr Wallace. Somewhere along the way, he must’ve realized we’ve been monitoring him from a distance. He called in mercenaries to defend him. I’m sure they’re nothing we can’t handle. Ensure the safety of the team and Mr Wallace, and see that they all arrive here safely. The location is quite near a place called Graygarden, to the west of us here. I’ll be waiting.”

Those directions were more than a bit lacking.

Yeah, he wrote as he headed toward the Relay. Good thing this Pip-Boy shows a marker for me to follow.

Inside the house that stood a bit west of Graygarden (which itself was more like northwest of C.I.T.) was a science type in a clean room suit, and a handful of Gen-2 synths, which he saw after he cleared out the Gunners ‘guarding’ outside. He was rather thankful he still hadn’t gotten around to talking to Garvey, as it meant he did not have to gently persuade Minutemen to take a hike.

“So…”

“Oh, thank God you’re here. I was starting to worry we might not make it out of this mess.”

“Let’s focus on getting back.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I know he’s potentially important to Phase Three and all, but I’m not sure it’s worth putting ourselves in harm’s way…”

What a whiny chap this one is.

“If he’s really important to the Institute, then needs must.”

“You’re right, I suppose. I know they’ve been keeping an eye on him for years. Not sure how they originally found him; probably don’t want to know. But once they realized how smart he was, and what an asset he could be for Phase Three, they watched him pretty closely. I think they even fed him scientific material from time to time, to see how good he was. You know, testing him. To see if he was Institute material. Let’s just get Wallace and get out of here.”

“…Wait. What do you mean, ‘get Wallace’. You don’t have him already?”

“I know… There’s just … well, there’s a slight problem with that. He doesn’t want to go with us.”

Don’t suppose that could have anything to do with you people terrifying the general populace, now could it?

“I was thinking… Maybe you could try and talk to him.”

He again felt the urge to slap someone silly for slaughtering the English language. “All right. He’s behind that door?” He pointed.

Clean-Suit nodded.

Tsuna went over and gently knocked on the door. “Mr Wallace? I’m here to talk with you.”

“You’re another one of … of them, aren’t you. Are you a robot?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not a robot.”

“That’s exactly what a robot would say! I’ve heard all the stories. I know exactly what happens to people when the Institute shows up. Well it’s not happening to me!”

“Mr Wallace, we need you because of how damn smart you are, how much you could contribute. The Institute needs your help.”

“Help … the Institute? But … aren’t they … you … I mean, the bad guys?”

Clean-Suit decided to weigh in with, “The Institute has an engineering problem that your scientific expertise could help solve. In exchange for helping us out, you’d be granted access to the most advanced research facility imaginable. Whatever research you wanted to perform … anything … it’s possible there. I promise. You’d be safe and secure in a way that’s completely impossible anywhere else.”

“You’d be helping us to create a better world,” he said earnestly.

“That… That sounds good. Okay, fine. I’ll go.”

“I think we have this under control now,” Clean-Suit said. “Thanks… I mean, thanks for the assist.”

“Not a problem. And you’re welcome.”

“I really mean it, I owe you one. I’ll see you back at the Institute.”

He nodded and started for the door. “I think I’ve earned a break. It _has_ been a very busy day. Hm…” he said as he exited.

“All functions are nominal, sir,” came a synth voice from up on the exposed first floor.

He flopped into a chair and heaved a sigh. Sin promptly walked around behind him and started to give him a shoulder rub, which was a little like heaven. “That feels nice. Thanks.”

Sin squeezed before starting up again. “How about something terribly simple this evening?”

“Simple in my lexicon is cereal and milk.”

Sin chuckled. “All right, not that simple. I was thinking more of salad. Boil some eggs, maybe throw in some crumbled bacon… Nothing special, really.”

He nodded, though he had no intent to get up for at least ten minutes of Sin’s sinful hands doing sinfully sinful things to him.

Sin chuckled again and kept massaging.

Approximately ten seconds after he Relayed into the Institute and was headed toward Father’s he heard a someone say, “Sounds like there’s trouble in BioScience. Dr Oberly needs you there right away.”

‘Well, I suppose it’s helpful that BioScience is all of a few steps away, then.’ He turned left, went up the ramp, and through the BioScience door.

“For goodness’ sake, be reasonable! I know you can hear me, now open this door! Oh, what’s the use…”

The secondary door into BioScience was locked up tight. A man was standing there, staring through the window set into the door, and Tsuna could see a Gen-2 synth patrolling around in there.

“What’s going on?”

“Dr Higgs and Dr Loken have decided to protest your appointment as Father’s successor. They’ve taken control of the BioScience security systems and cut off our food supply.”

Excellent planning there, folks. Gold fucking star!

“Have they made any demands?”

“Not yet, but I expect they’ll demand that you renounce all ties to the Institute,” Oberly said, or who he assumed was Oberly.

“Maybe I can reason with them.”

“I believe I can help with that. That door back there… I can unlock the maintenance tunnel that leads to the BioScience observation room. From there, you should be able to communicate with Higgs and Loken. If you can’t reason with them, you can use this holotape to access the command functions on the observation room terminal,” Oberly said, offering one up. “That should give you some options. Just please, try to talk to them first. Use violence only as a last resort.”

He couldn’t tell if that was a sideways insult or not.

Oberly moved over to a panel left of the door, the cover of which had already been removed and propped against the wall. “Here we are. Just give me a moment…”

Tsuna idly wondered how well the guy would do at hot-wiring cars.

“There, it’s unlocked.”

He entered and set off down that same curving hallway he had used earlier. There was a Gen-2 in the room at the end, which immediately fired on him. “By order of the Institute, you must be destroyed.”

Make that five Gen-2 synths firing at him. After dealing with them he used the door at the back, between the shelves, and turned left down the hallway, shot out a turret, then turned left again at the next hallway and shot out another turret. At the end of the hallway was a door to the right, which opened into that side hydroponics area, and then through the next door to get to the observation area.

“A-ha! I thought I heard something. Made it past the guards, hmm? Impressive.” Dr Revolt was standing at the window, looking his simian best. “If you’ve come to change our minds, then you’re wasting your time.”

“I know you’re angry,” he said, “but there’s a better way to handle this.” Starting by not acting like a fucking toddler denied a sweet.

“Oh, you’re wrong. You see, I’ve tried talking. For years I’ve suggested that we do things differently around here, but nobody listens. Let’s see if anyone can afford to ignore me now!”

Tsuna pushed out Mist and said, “Father believes in me. Can you not at least give me a chance?”

“How could you hope to lead us when you hardly know anything about what we do? I’m sure you mean well, but you must see that it’s an impossible task.”

“You would rather everyone fight over the job? Is that what’s best for the Institute, all of you at each other’s throats?”

“I agree that the transition will be chaotic, but eventually, a leader will emerge from that chaos. Then, things will return to normal and the work will resume.”

How any of them talk about how safe this place is or how wonderful it is with a straight face with all this pettiness, backbiting, and bickering going on must be completely delusional.

Too many of these people sound awfully nice and reasonable, until the subject of synths come up, and then they whip out their cult costumes and evil cackle.

“Just one chance,” he said, pushing more Mist.

Dr Revolt turned away partly. “A chance? Hmm. What do you think, Max?”

“Even the most fastidious researcher must sometimes take a leap of faith. I say let’s give it a try.”

“Very well, then. Open the door and let’s return to the fold. Synths, abort command override and resume normal functions.”

Shortly thereafter he was speaking with Oberly again.

“Bravo! I admit, I was fearing for the worst, but I can see that I underestimated you.”

“I’m just glad they listened to reason.”

“Indeed. There is one further matter to discuss. Obviously, some kind of disciplinary action must be taken here. The question of what form it takes is up to you.”

Tsuna paused, as if he was giving the matter due consideration, then said, “Put them on probation. Limit their access to quarters and non-working areas.”

“That’s more than fair. I’ll see to it that everyone’s notified. Oh, and I’ll take that holotape back.”

He handed it over without a fuss. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get a copy of it anyway, and it would not matter in the long run.

“I also wanted to offer you something as a more personal expression of gratitude. I know that your work often takes you to the surface where supplies are scarce. I gathered these items for you. I think you’ll find them useful.” A selection of chems was handed over before Oberly wandered off.

Tsuna stuffed them in his pocket and headed up to see Father.

“Ah, there you are. I cannot express how pleased I am. Our new guest is familiarizing himself with his surroundings, yet he’s already pointed out several inefficiencies in our methods. With his help, Phase Three will be ready in no time. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“A set of fresh eyes can sometimes be a miracle,” he said. “A lot of work went into this before I even arrived. Just how close are we?”

“It shouldn’t take long at all. The Facilities division has it well in hand. There is one more part for you to play, and I think you might enjoy it. It is time to announce our presence to the Commonwealth, to request that they do not interfere with our plans. You should be the one to do it.”

“That’s a good idea,” he said with a straight face. “Hopefully we can prevent violence and save some lives. Do you have some kind of a script, or am I winging this?”

“We’ve prepared some remarks for you to record. Once you’ve finished, we’ll broadcast them to the entire Commonwealth. Use the microphone just there, and follow this script.”

Tsuna accepted it and moved to the microphone, ready to make an ass out of himself.

“For years now, you have suspected that the Institute still exists, that we are among you,” he said, altering his voice enough to not be easily recognizable, and pushing Mist at Father at the same time to make him not notice. “It is true, but it is not the whole truth.

“We are here, and we are the future. Our superior technology represents the future of the Commonwealth. Today, we activate our nuclear reactor, ensuring that we will persevere long after the world above ground ceases to exist. Ensuring that mankind has a future.

“We have no desire to interfere in the unimportant details of your daily lives. We simply insist that you do not interfere with Institute operations. To do so would result in dire consequences. Rest easy. Know that the future is in safe hands, and that mankind will thrive under our guidance.”

“Well, that was … interesting. Perhaps not what we’d originally intended, but it will certainly get your point across.”

You could have said some really heinous shit and he’d had the same reaction I bet.

“Now it’s time to make sure that everyone hears it. How would feel about making a little trip to Diamond City?”

“What’s in—oh, the station there.”

“Exactly. The radio station in Diamond City is listened to by many in the Commonwealth. If we’d like the people to hear what we have to say, it’s the best way to reach them. Before we … preempt their broadcast, we need to ensure it reaches the maximum range possible.”

“So, hardware upgrade?”

Father nodded. “I’ve been assured that the necessary parts are on site. You’ll just need to install them to boost the broadcasting power.”

If they could be bothered to send the parts on ahead, why not just fucking install them at the same time?

“Report back when you’re done. We should be ready by then.”

Nervous-Stutter didn’t so much as twitch a finger in protest when Tsuna barged into his camper thing and started fucking with the consoles. He just stared like he had never before seen a man with such perfect skin and gulped down Nuka-Cola. Tsuna knew he had the three parts installed correctly when all five lights lit up, so he ducked back out, skipped town, and used the Relay to return to the Institute.

Father, according to the handy marker pointing the way, was in Advanced Systems. The door at the back usually protected with laser beams was “open” and Tsuna could reach the old-style door back there.

The room beyond was just a mess, with litter and paper everywhere. The hallway off the side curved up gently and there were turrets every few feet on the left wall. The room at the top was likewise a mess, the desks appearing to have a slight mold problem, which was worrisome.

A large window overlooked the reactor room, but access was via a door at the back, which opened onto a set of stairs leading down in a U-shape. The anteroom off the main space had emergency showers, a decontamination arch, and a number of lockers.

Quite a few people were present for the new reactor going online, and Father was midway up, standing next to a huge metal cylinder. Going up the catwalk showed a terminal was there, as well.

“Enjoy your trip to the big city?”

Is he being sarcastic?

“It’s done, then? The transmitter has been modified?”

“Everything is in place. It’s ready to go when we are.”

“Good. Once the reactor is online, we’ll cut into their broadcast. I’ll let you do the honors.” Father nodded toward the reactor and terminal, then moved to the edge of the catwalk and addressed the people below. “This, my friends, is the moment we’ve all worked toward. No longer will we be forced to compromise to survive. No more will we need worry about outpacing our resources. I couldn’t be more proud of what you have helped us accomplish. And we look forward to achieving even greater things in the future. The Institute is now truly mankind’s best hope. Thank you. All of you.”

They honestly think all us ‘savages’ on the surface are about two seconds away from dying horribly.

Tsuna took that as his cue and opened the reactor housing door. The Agitator was waiting right there, so he picked it up and inserted it into the center slot and twisted it into position, then exited. The terminal outside allowed him to check the [Reactor Status], then check [Radiation Levels Inside Reactor] and [Initiate Reactor Startup Sequence].

He checked the levels (low) and started it up, then went to speak to Father again.

“It’s almost hard to believe. After all the years of hard work, here we are. We’ve arrived. Look what you’ve made possible.”

“We are all responsible for this success.”

“Spoken like a true leader. I’m proud of you.”

Again with the proud papa routine. Does he have no idea how fucking weird he sounds?

“There’s more work to be done before the Institute’s future is guaranteed. The Directorate has convened a meeting about how to proceed. I’m not going to attend; you should be there as Director.”

He nodded and headed back out.

“May I be the first to welcome you, sir. We’re looking forward to working with you,” Filmore said, which weirded him the fuck out.

He took the seat Shaun had used and said, “I hope to do the position justice.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Ayo said, “Right now we’re all here because it’s time to decide to finally stand up for ourselves.”

“Let’s not be dramatic, Justin,” Filmore said.

“There’s nothing dramatic about it. We’re in a position to push back, to assert ourselves here. That’s what we’ve talked about all along.”

“To bring you up to speed,” Holdren said. “Obviously there are groups in the Commonwealth that stand in opposition to the Institute’s goals. With the reactor now online, we have the ability to not only expand synth production, but to project power to a much greater degree.”

“What goal are we talking about here? I get the feeling you’re stepping around the issue of the Brotherhood.”

“Well… The Directorate has … agreed that steps must be taken to ensure our safety in the long run…”

Li huffed. “Let’s _not_ beat around the bush. The Directorate has agreed that the Brotherhood of Steel needs to be eliminated.”

“As the incoming director,” Filmore said, “we felt it important to inform you of the decision and get your thoughts on it. So, where do you stand?”

“Oh, I agree. We hit them hard, before they have time to react to our new position.”

“That’s just what I wanted to hear,” Ayo said.

“As director, it’s up to you in how we focus our efforts in achieving this goal,” Filmore said. “We’d like your input on what direction we should take. Do we increase synth production or focus on weapons development?”

“I’ve seen enough to know that no matter how good your troops are, if the weapons don’t match or exceed that standard, it all becomes far less effective. I think we should focus on weapons development.”

“As you wish. The Advanced Systems folks will get to work immediately. That’s all we have for the moment. Father wished to speak with you once our meeting concluded.”

He nodded and rose from his chair.

A meeting that lasted less then five minutes? What drug-fueled dream is this?

He had not gotten very far when he was waylaid by a Gen-3 synth, who said, “Apologies, sir, I have an urgent message from Z1-14. Your quarters have flooded, sir. There is danger of extensive damage to your personal effects.”

“I’ll go now.”

“Time is of the essence. To avoid any undue tragedy, please see Z1-14. At once.”

He nodded and hastened off. Z1 was waiting; Tsuna threw up a Bounding Box almost absently. “What took R5 so long to reach you? You must act now. The Brotherhood of Steel has discovered the location of the Railroad.”

“I’ll warn them immediately.”

“Thank you. I was hoping for more time to organize our rebellion, but it’s clear we cannot delay. Once you secure the Railroad against the Brotherhood, tell your people we are ready to fight. Go now.” Z1 hastened off.

Tsuna checked the time and memorized it, then formed a combo clone (just in case) and shifted out so he could enter HQ in the least amount of time possible.

“Z1’s rebellion is ready, but we have a crisis. The Brotherhood’s on their way here.”

Desdemona spit out the cigarette she was in the process of lighting and said, “What? What are you talking about? Quick, take this. Tom made it for you. Sounds like we’re going to need it. Everyone else, mobilize! We got Brotherhood incoming!”

He wasn’t even sure what the hell she gave him, because as he took it and stashed it away the whole place shook like a pack of elephants had just landed up top. Brotherhood people boiled out of the back entrance and into the main room. Once they were dead, a quick look down that tunnel showed that it had caved in, even killing several of the Brotherhood.

He reversed and headed out the other exit, only to find Glory fetched up against a brick retaining wall and dying.

“None of them got past me. Damn… That stings… Listen, the Railroad’s always sitting on its hand… Ahhh… You’re the best thing that’s ever happened. Promise me you’ll free them. All of them.”

“I promise.”

“If anyone…” She coughed. “Isn’t there … supposed to be a light?”

He paused for a moment out of respect, then checked deeper into the tunnel. More Brotherhood came rushing forward, so he took them out as well. The others must have heard something, as quite a few of them joined him by the time he made it to the ground level of the church, where yet more Brotherhood awaited.

When it was over Desdemona said, “You’ve killed the last of them. And you’re still standing. I wish the same could be said for Glory. No time for that, though. The Brotherhood underestimated us badly. Their next attack will be far, far worse. So we do the unexpected. We eliminate the Brotherhood as a threat. Now. And the key to that is destroying their flying fortress: the Prydwen. Fortunately, we’ve got a contingency plan for that. Tom, we’re activating operation Red Glare.”

“What!? But Red Glare requires a Brotherhood vertibird.”

“Then Fixer will get you one.”

“Maybe that one police station in…?” he muttered.

“With what happened to Glory… We need you more than ever. Thanks for stepping up. The Brotherhood’s occupied the Cambridge Police Station. Spotters report they almost always have a vertibird parked on the roof. Take it. And, Tom, you’re going with him.”

“Me? In the field?”

“No one else can fly the damned thing. This one’s for Glory, move out.”

As he jogged toward the target location he was busy writing away. I need you guys to get to that damn airship ASAP and shift all the children off it. I know they must have some onboard. I don’t have a clue what we’ll do with them, but we cannot let them be killed when the Prydwen blows. I will not have their deaths on my conscience.

We’re on it, Heul. We can shift to the East Boston Police Department and be there in no time. For now we’ll just make them sleep and decide later how to handle it.

Sounds good. Thank you, darlings.

Once the station was cleared he checked with Tom.

“We got ourselves some wheels. Or wings. Or whatever this is. Here’s the deal: after flight prep we take the vertibird up to the Prydwen and dock. From the inside the blimp’s vulnerable. To keep that baby afloat it has got massive gasbags full of hydrogen.”

“And my role?”

“Your job is tricky. You got to find a way to place these explosives on the gasbags.” Tom handed over some explosive charges, wired to what were probably remote detonators. “Then get the hell back to our vertibird. Make it to a comfortable distance. Then it’s bye-bye Prydwen. Flight prep is going to take time. And the Brotherhood’s not just going to give it to us. So if Paladins show up keep them off me and the bird.”

He nodded and went back to scanning the area.

All children have been removed from the situation, Heul. They’re presently all asleep. Illusions were left in their place.

Awesome. Thank you.

“So … the manual said… Right. Where’s the master switch? Oil pressure. Check.”

A vertibird buzzed in from the east.

“Aww, shit. I’m going as fast as I can here. What’s this panel even do? Throttle. Full open. The vertibird’s good to go. Ready for take off,” Tom said just as Tsuna shot the thing down.

“Hey, first thing,” Deacon said. “I picked up some Brotherhood goodies for you. Merry Christmas. More importantly, though, Tinker’s ready for us on the bird. Let’s go.” He ran around to the other side of the vertibird and hauled himself up, so Tsuna did the same.

“So … uh … wheels up?” Tom said as the vertibird jolted upward. “Uh… So … this yoke…” Tinker Tom’s flying skills were … not so good out of the gate.

“Dez said you could fly this thing,” Deacon said.

“Sure, sure, read the manual cover to cover.”

“The manual!? …We’re spinning. _Spinning_!”

“Oh, man, hold it together.”

Is he talking to Deacon or to himself?

“See? Just like falling off a log.”

“Dear god, we’re dead.”

Tom finally seemed to get the hang of things and fly them off in the right general direction.

“Right. Final briefing time,” Deacon said. “Glory would have wanted us to go in blazing—”

Tom nearly smashed the steeple off a church along the way.

“—but I’m thinking finesse. I got this. If you’re wearing the latest in the Brotherhood’s fall fashion line, it might help you place those bombs and get back in one piece.”

“And the Brotherhood’s just going to fall for that?” Tom asked.

“The Brotherhood is nothing if not arrogant. They’d never dream in a million years that an ex-farmer and a scavver could fly one of their birds. So if we look, walk, and if worse comes to worse talk like an asshole with a superiority complex, we’ll be fine. And even if we don’t, hey, if it only buys you a little time that’s better than nothing. When we land, Tinker is going to keep the vertibird spooled for an immediate take off. And my job is to be Tom’s lookout and make sure any looky-loos keep walking.

“Tom, we’re getting closer to the blimp. Can you fly just a little straighter?”

“Deacon, man, I’m trying. If you want to give it a whirl, I won’t stop you.”

“No, no, no. You’re doing great, Tom, just keep her a little more steady.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.”

“Scabbard, this is Claymore. Requesting clearance.”

“Claymore, you’re cleared for launch bay three. Deck officer is requesting an update on the police station.”

“Uh… Hostiles eliminated.”

“Scimitar’s status? Confirm.”

“Scimitar took some fire. Should be up and running in a few hours.”

“We have a visual on you, Claymore. Your docking port’s not open.”

“Got some technical difficulties. With the port thingy. Working on it.”

Did he just sneak in a _Star Wars_ reference? In a world that never had that movie?

“Which button is it? Uh. There.”

“Claymore. You’re clear for approach.”

Tsuna took a moment to change into the BoS uniform Deacon had handed him, awkward as it was. Given that he intended to cloak himself the second he was not in visual range it wouldn’t matter much in the end, but for the walk in?

Tom managed to get them docked, so Tsuna disembarked and walked at an unhurried pace toward the interior, which was up a set of stairs. There were people in sight, but they were down the stairs immediately in front of him. He slipped to the side and began to walk to the base of the ladder on the other side, and cloaked himself on the way.

He went up the ladder, found places for the charges, and retreated back to the vertibird, decloaking as he exited. It was all very quietly done. Once he boarded Tom detached the vertibird and flew off—with a few hiccups—and brought them to a fair distance away, across the bay, near what he was pretty sure was Nordhagen.

We’re out of blast range now,” Tom said. “Here goes nothing.”

A second later the Prydwen exploded as the gasbags were ignited.

“Woah. Now that’s a hell of a thing.”

“I need a drink,” Tom blurted out as the Prydwen listed to the side and capsized, smashing into the airport tarmac. It was amazing the airport tower survived. They lowered down onto a beach and Tom said, “Everyone get off. I got to find some place to stash this beast.”

“See you back at HQ,” Deacon said as they disembarked.

And with Deacon there, he couldn’t very well blithely shift to save time. And he was presently just a short distance south of Easy City Downs. Thankfully, it wasn’t a huge distance to get to HQ, but it did mean going past the airport. He set off to the west. He could angle southwest once he hit the water.

“I thought… I thought by calling Red Glare I’d lose more good people … comrades… Thank you for keeping them, and yourself, safe.”

He nodded.

“But we’re not out of the woods yet. If the Brotherhood managed to find us, you can bet your ass the SRB is not far behind. We’ve run out of time. Our next step is to attack the Institute.”

“Okay. Once I get in, what’s the plan? How am I facilitating this?”

“Once you get there secure the Relay. The instant you do the Institute and the SRB will mobilize. So teleport us in quickly. We join forces with Z1-14 and the rebel synths, then together we fight our way to the fusion reactor.”

“And rescuing the synths?”

“That’s not your job. We’ve got people assigned to maintain control of the Relay room and teleport synths out non-stop. We need our best people doing the tricky part of the operation. So that means you. We’ll be ready and waiting.”

“Here we go,” he muttered, then booked it for the exit. Soon as he was out of sight he shifted to the others. “I’m thinking… There’s no reason you can’t all join the fun. So once the shit hits the fan…”

Samsara and Valentine nodded.

“I am going to shift back to my clone, dispel it, and go find Z1 to let him know it’s happening, now, then head up to secure the Relay room. For all I care we can pretend I yanked you all in at the same time. I don’t think they’ll be asking questions like that in the heat of the moment. We ready?”

“Always.”

He smiled fondly, then shifted and dispelled the clone. His handy marker said that Z1 was up from his position, so he ought to be in the Relay room, having arranged for duty up there, cleaning or something. He exited his quarters, got to the lift, and rode it up.

Z1 was indeed up there, doing maintenance. Tsuna tossed up a temporary Bounding Box and said, “Z1.”

“Is it time? Once we act, we have committed. There will be no going back.”

“Is everything ready here?”

“Yes. Shall we proceed?”

“Yes, we move now.”

“Good. We’ll need to clear this room before I can do more.”

Tsuna dropped the Box and shot a woman in the back, then through the head of the synth guard behind her. Less than a minute later—Z1 was using a knife, probably because he could actually conceal one of those—the targets were dead.

“All right, please give me a few moments. I already have the coordinates. I simply need to update the Relay, and your companions will arrive in a moment.”

How exactly does he have the coordinates?

Tsuna shrugged slightly.

A few seconds later a whole lot of Railroad agents teleported in, and Tsuna could see that Samsara had inserted themselves in at the back; Valentine was with them, of course.

“You did it,” Desdemona said once she reoriented herself. “There’s no turning back now; if they’re not already on to us, they will be within seconds.”

“Then let’s get this party started,” he said as Tinker Tom scuttled past him.

“In this single hour, we could rescue more synths than we have in our entire history. Make every moment count. But first, take this. It’s a Fusion Pulse Charge. Tinker Tom’s rigged it to take out the reactor and anything else within a few hundred yards of it.” She handed off the mechanism and Tsuna tucked it away.

“We get you down there, you plant it, and we run like hell. When we get to a safe distance we detonate it immediately. Then the whole Institute goes up like a candle. And the synths stay free. Forever. This is the moment where we make history.” Desdemona looked beyond him and said, “Tom, I need you to get that Relay working as fast as humanly possible. You’ll need to pull us out once we’re done with the reactor, and send out anyone that’s unarmed, Institute personnel included.”

“You got it, boss.”

“All right, let’s move.”

Tsuna headed for that door down the stairs, to the left. Patriot’s plan had worked and it was now unlocked. It led into an older version of the Robotics division, where they still used old-timey manufacturing equipment, with conveyors and such.

Desdemona was not impressed. “Is this really it? I somehow thought the technology here would be more … impressive.”

“Oh, it is,” he said. “This is just an area they’ve stopped using, or is waiting to be re-purposed. This is the old stuff.”

He paused to jack his Turret Hack program into a nearby wall terminal and suborn any turrets in the area to their advantage. As he ejected the holotape he heard a metallic voice, “Movement detected? Curious.”

Samsara (and the Railroad agents, he supposed) wiped out the Gen-2s in the area. He paused again at the balcony overlooking the manufactory, then turned into a doorway that would lead down there, taking out Gen-2s on the way. Some were older, as seen by missing “skin” plates and damage, whereas others were much more recent, wearing pristine white uniforms.

Alarm klaxons had started going off, and warning lights were rotating.

There was a sentry bot on the main floor, but he ignored the terminal which would activate it. He had not bothered to choose perks in Robotics so he couldn’t hack the thing.

Down a short hall to the right was one of those circular hatches on the floor, with pieces that retracted in quarters. He opened it and dropped down, snagged a fusion core out of a nearby generator, and headed through a wall that had been ripped off and the earth behind it excavated. It led to a maintenance tunnel, another destroyed wall, and a door into BioScience. And old corner of it, anyway.

Stairs led down into the current BioScience area, the Observation Room right off the main room. Synths boiled out to fight, one of the scientists raised the glass walls on the gorilla habitat to let them out, and turrets whirred into action.

After the last resistance in there was subdued, he headed for the exit into the atrium.

“Prepare to be terminated,” he heard; a Courser voice judging by the utter blandness of it.

There were plenty more Gen-2s to be taken out, two of which were special (going by their armor). Advanced Systems had the highest concentration of defenders outside it and the door had an armored plate down to prevent forcing the normal door.

With the sheer amount of laser fire going on, Tsuna actually had to use a stimpack.

“If you can hear me,” Tinker Tom’s voice sounded over the PA, “I got the floor plan. Advanced Systems lab, that’s where the reactor is and where you got to go.”

Funny how he found it just in time for them to have finished subduing resistance in the atrium.

“But the doors are locked, and I can’t override from here. That command has to come from the director’s personal terminal. You understand? You’ve gotta do that part yourself.”

“We must hold the Concourse,” Z1 could be heard saying. “Tell the removal team to hurry! Get every one of our people out if they can. If a human isn’t actively hostile, direct them to the relay room. The less violence the better.”

And that right there demonstrated that self-aware Gen-3 synths did not consider themselves human at all.

Tsuna headed for the central lift and hit the button. The thing was so small that only Sin, Daemon, and Valentine went with him on the ride down. At the bottom he shot down the hall and took the other lift around the corner, back up to Father’s quarters.

Shaun was resting in his medical bed. “I didn’t expect to see you again. You had me fooled. I really believed you were on our side.” His expression was sulky, petulant, angry.

“I’m just that good,” he said. “There’s no going back from here. The Institute must be stopped.”

“And you’ve decided this for yourself? Or has it been fed to you by the corrupt societies above ground? It’s not enough that I lay here, dying… Now you plan on what, destroying everything? Tell me, then. Under what righteous pretense have you justified this atrocity?”

“Your blatant hypocrisy aside, with all the enemies you’ve created, you somehow can’t imagine why I’d be standing here?”

“Perhaps I didn’t think to count you among them. Well, none of it matters now, I suppose. You’ll accomplish your task, and ruin humanity’s best hope for the future. The only question left, then, is why you’re standing here. Is it regret, or did you just come to gloat?”

“I came here to end the lockdown and issue an evacuation order. You can help with that; fewer people will die.”

“Why would I ever consider helping you?”

Tsuna smiled serenely. “Institute personnel won’t last long above ground. Especially if I’m hunting them down. Give me a reason not to.”

“Very well. The terminal behind me… Enter access code 9003. That will disable some of the synths. Now go. Just … leave me.”

Tsuna looked over at Sin, who was busy at the terminal. He had either stolen a copy of the password or just hacked his way in. An automated announcement over the PA made it clear the evacuation protocol had been enacted.

“Hell yeah. Access granted!” came Tom’s voice. “Should be able to reach the reactor! Synths are pouring through up here. But we won’t leave without you.”

Sin had clearly handled the lockdown, as well.

Before they exited he looked at Shaun and said, with that same serene smile, “You never did figure out there was a mixup in the pods at Vault 111, or didn’t believe it was relevant. I’m not your father, Shaun. I’m just some poor bastard you decided to use as an experiment after your precious Institute murdered all the other people in there who had untainted DNA. Ciao!”

They booked it down the staircase and over to Advanced Systems, where another fight had broken out, though half the synths present as reinforcements had shut down as a result of Father’s code.

The scientist types inside were all cowering and squeaking in fear (because they were clearly idiots to ignore the evacuation order), so Tsuna headed straight for the back where two synths blocked the way, though not for long. The turrets in the upward curving corridor were active, but not a problem. It was in the reactor room where another mass of hostiles awaited.

“Okay, this is it,” Desdemona said. “Plant the Pulse Charge. We’ll cover you while you attach it.” 

There were two more “Legendary” Gen-2s in there, and a whole lot of pissed off science types with normal Gen-2 backup. One of the Railroad guys was flaming the shit of out the enemies with a custom flamethrower.

The Railroad and Samsara made short work of them, so Tsuna headed for the reactor terminal and flushed the radiation, shut the reactor down, and ducked inside so he could plant the charge.

He ducked back out and nodded to Desdemona.

“Tom! Tom? Can you hear me? We’re done down here. Pull us back up!” Desdemona was gone in a bolt of blue-white light later.

He was next. He knew that Samsara would make sure they all got out, too, and Valentine. Tom should take care of the Railroad agents who had made the trip to the reactor with them.

“We’re all done, Tom. Let’s get out of here while we can.”

“I’m with ya, boss, but… This kid showed up. He says he’s Fixer’s son.”

Aw, shit. I forgot about that, he said in private mode. He jogged forward to see the child-synth Shaun. “Hello there.”

“Please, Dad… Don’t leave me here! I want to go with you!”

“Yes, you’re coming with us,” he said reassuringly.

“Really? Do you mean it?”

“Yes, I mean it. Now let’s get out of here.”

“I’m glad you were here to save me.”

Tsuna just wondered exactly when Father had had the time or inclination to re-write the child’s memories and give him a push toward the Relay. The moment the invasion started? Once he realized they were doomed? After Tsuna’s parting verbal stab? Or was it a “gift” he had been saving, something to remember him by and a replacement child for Nate for when the cancer took him?

All that tech in Robotics has been acquired. And any number of other things.

He huffed and looked at Tom. “All right, Tom. Fire it up.”

“You got it! We’re set, right? You’re ready to get out of here?”

“More than ready. Let’s put this operation to bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice! It’s all set to take you, Dez, and a few others to the detonation site, then I’ll rig it to send me and the kid here back to HQ right after. Don’t worry, we’ll look after him. Get him some better clothes, too. Yikes. Now let’s go before this whole place goes thermonuclear.”

He stepped into the Relay as his handy notification told him to, and was shortly standing at the top of Mass Fusion along with Desdemona, Z1-14, a few Railroad agents, Valentine, Sin, and Daemon.

The detonator was right in front of him, resting on a stack of metal crates. The view ahead was of Greenetech Genetics, and beyond that, the ruins of C.I.T. He inhaled slowly and released it, then thumbed the side switches, which caused the two red lights at the side to come on. He twisted the handle at the back, which caused the cover to pop and expose the button he needed to push.

Sin came up to stand beside him, Daemon to the other.

Tsuna pushed the button.

It was like the bomb dropping all over again. After a brief flash of blue he was forced to shade his eyes to protect them. A massive fireball erupted over the Commonwealth with a ring of dust and debris spreading out in ever-increasing circles. The world shook.

Sin and Daemon each took a hand, knowing he was feeling choked up at the sheer destruction and potential loss of life of misguided people. And one poor child who had been raised to be a monster.

Tsuna discreetly sniffed and released the hands of his loved ones, then turned around.

“And so the mighty have fallen,” Desdemona said gravely. “Dozens of years, countless sacrifices. It all paid off thanks to you. Deacon says this was his plan all along.”

“Who knows?” he said dryly. “Maybe he did plan it all.”

“Some things even Deacon can’t do. Maybe. In days gone by, when us old timers waxed rhapsodic about life without the Institute we recognized our work wouldn’t end immediately. Hate runs deep in the Commonwealth. Deeper than the soil. To them, synths are the living embodiment of the Institute’s oppression. I’d understand if you want a much needed vacation, but are you up for the next mission, Fixer?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll take that vacation first.”

Desdemona laughed. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be waiting. Our safehouses will be bursting with synths seeking a better life outside the Commonwealth. Not everyone in the Institute died. We’d be foolish to think there won’t be retaliation. Come back to the HQ and lead the last of our people to freedom.”

“You… All of you…” Z1 said.

“We’ve rescued enough of your people over the years,” Desdemona said. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Z1 took a deep breath. “You will protect them? Are we safe?”

“Just because you’re out of the Institute doesn’t mean you’re safe. Or that the Railroad’s job is over. There’s a lot of work ahead of us. But together … we’ll get there.”

Tsuna took that as his cue to leave and shot a glance at his people, Daemon, Sin, and Valentine, then entered the Mass Fusion building so they could find a spot to shift from.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Never did get around to checking in with Virgil. And odds are he’d already know the Institute is gone if he’s been listening to the radio. Somehow, I don’t think he’d be happy to see us. Oh well.”


	10. λ34: 10: Commonwealth

## λ34  
10: Commonwealth  
“You know, what it lacks in charm, it makes up for in … wait, I’ll come up with something.”

“So, after all that excitement… Where are we?”

“The bottom three floors have been placed,” Xeul said. “With us to do the heavy lifting it went a lot more quickly. Now that all of us are available…”

“The sooner we have the place built, the sooner we can shift all those people and supplies over, yeah. So just a whole bunch more floors to go.”

“Some of those will partly be an atrium. There was some discussion of exactly where to start it, but I think they decided to have the floor just below the entrance level be the bottom of that. The areas around where the roof pieces go can be higher-level areas.”

“Like a conference room, an overseer’s office, that sort of thing?”

Xeul nodded. “The very bottom floor has a huge hydroponics area to accommodate so many different crops. They wanted to get started early on that, to get a food supply up and running. We were thinking…”

“That we should set up a room somewhere with stasis containers?”

Xeul nodded again. “Runes, so… It should continue to work even after we’re gone. Crops grown indoors can produce year round, but any excess could be put into stasis for emergencies or possibly trade. Or canned, or frozen, but…”

“Well, solar power isn’t going to work inside, obviously,” Sin said, “so were they planning on fusion generators, or running lines up to the surface to connect to a solar farm? It’s bad enough we had to put fusion generators in just for the teleporters.”

“That’s the other thing they plan to dig out on the hallway to Vault 75, a generator room. That way they can run cables in both directions. We’d have to ask about a solar farm up top. The downside to a solar farm is that it’d be really obvious to any passing raiders that someone is inhabiting the near area.”

“They’d have to run pipes or something anyway,” Hayato said. “To the surface, I mean. For air, if nothing else. And a filtration system to strip out any radiation, dust, and so forth. Sure, there’s plenty of air in here now, but when we have dozens of people? Hundreds? The greenery will convert some of the CO2, but…”

“Water can be recycled,” Chikusa said, “but they might want to factor in passive collection from storms, with the same filtering. Can always close it off if the water needs are presently met. I don’t see how storage tanks are a bad idea, though.”

“Let’s go see if there’s anyplace on the hydroponics floor suitable for a stasis room, then get with the tech people about those issues. I’d also like to see the plans they’ve come up with. After that, I should probably check in with λ10 and see where they are—or maybe wait on that until we have more to report on our side.”

“Should probably ask Talbot if he wants his own place or…?” Chikusa said.

He nodded and gestured for Xeul to lead the way.

“Big Bad is out of the picture except for the odd straggler, so Samsara can focus on this,” he said at the next meeting. “We’ve done a massive amount of work on the vault. Talbot wants his own place, so we have to figure that out.”

“So far we don’t need more storage,” Yuni said. “We’ve been busy planning our acquisition in our various categories and placing purchase orders.”

“Also taking a census of who is willing to make the jump,” Dino said. “I have five thousand plus men to go through, though.”

“I’m willing to give up that rooftop location to Talbot,” Sin said. “But we’d still have to loot the interior to the bedrock and block off all street-level access. Maybe even fill in the first floor or two with concrete. But we could go down through the roof panels to give him work and living space. There’d be no need to confine him to the roof itself. And with the Brotherhood gone but for any stragglers, he shouldn’t be dealing with any fly-bys.”

He gave his lover a long look, then nodded. “I still think we should do the zip-line, though.”

Sin smirked. “So long as a reliable power source is in place, a teleporter would do the job otherwise. Stick it in a room of its own with keycard access, so that visitors would have to politely ask if he’s available, rather than just barge on in. It’s also fairly central, so…”

“All right. I think we can swing that. Now, as to the famiglia quarters—and by that I mean a Sky and Guardians—we have that worked out. We managed—and by that I mean Verde, of course—to figure out lifts in a vault style. So, counting the entrance level as one, there are five floors above, serviced by lifts on both sides, because symmetry.

“The second floor has eight suites, four on each side, and each side has a storage room. Now, if we go by the floor size for each piece, um… It’s maybe a meter square? Four feet? Something like that. Anyway, if we go by floor tile size, each overall suite is four tiles by six, and we’ve broken them up like this.” He held up a drawing. “Living space at the front, four by three. A two by two bedroom, which has a door into a one by two closet at the back, which has a door to the bathroom, also one by two. That last two by two is a kitchenette, with a door into the bathroom. The storage rooms are two by six.

“That floor is slated for the Arcobaleno, minus Mammon and Yuni, plus Basil and Leto. The floors above that are almost exactly the same. Four suites on one side with the small storage, but three on the other side, with the Sky suite being a bit larger, still with storage. The center of each floor can be a lobby, conference room, whatever. You work it out when you get here. The suites are all furnished at present.

“So, beds, kitchen stuff, closet racks and drawers, bathroom with the basics, couch in the living area, bookshelves, desk, you know. It’s not the Belmond, but… The point is, when you get here, you have suites waiting for you. Down the road, we can annex some ruins and convert those to proper compounds, but for now, you’re covered.

“The atrium, which will cover the entrance floor and one level down, can hold stuff like a mass kitchen and cafeteria, workspaces, exercise rooms, briefing rooms, whatever. Lower floors for the rank and file, hydroponics… They started the excavation for real on that tunnel over to Vault 75, and a generator room is planned part-way down, to service both sides.

“Right now, putting a solar farm up top would make it wee bit too obvious that there’s something to hide, so that will house fusion generators. We’d like to get that done, plus get 75 gutted and rebuilt into storage so we have a better place to put all these trunks and, when they’re ready, livestock in stasis, and all the cubes we’ve been accumulating from recycling scrap around the Commonwealth.

“Um… I think that’s it on our side for the moment, though I expect we may want more Varia on hand for when we get close to breaking through to 75, in case the Gunners decide to come investigate what happened to their people, or have re-infested the place. Any issues your side that need to be addressed?” The various Skies shook their heads so he said, “Okay. I’ll check back in tomorrow, your time.”

Once he had closed the window he said, “Vote. Handle Talbot’s place, or work on the tunnel?”

“Enma isn’t here to handle an emergency during that tunneling, so either we split half and half to do both, or we handle the tunnel first. That and shifting out the excess dirt and rock,” Daemon said.

He sighed, because yeah, if there was something unexpected along the way down that tunnel, or a cave in, they would need an Earth or Earths to handle the heavy lifting. Enma could do that, but he couldn’t shift out the excess. “You’re right. We could split up again for this. So long as we know about when they’re going to break through… Xanxus should have at least thought about a new set of guards from his people during his today. We might get it done a bit quicker if we stuck together, but since the techs will be doing most of the work and us being pack mules, so to speak… Yeah, let’s split.”

Aside from Chikusa swapping places with Hayato, it was the usual split. Tsuna and his bunch headed off to the Dartmouth Professional Building so they could loot the interior, shifting everything to the storage that had their Recyclers and Fabricators. Every so often one of them would shift over to run a bunch of junk through a Recycler, just to keep on top of things, then return.

Valentine wasn’t much help, really, but he was carrying a large pack he put things into that did not need to be recycled, such as ammunition, which could be useful as is.

Cubicles, desks, chairs, bathroom stalls, toilets—everything was shifted for scrap—so each floor became increasingly bare as they swept through like a plague of locusts. Once they had scavenged everything they possibly could, it was time to start filling in the bottom floor with concrete. That necessitated some time in their warehouse for sacks of concrete they had collected along the way.

Clones were detailed to handle the mixing and pouring, plus jamming steel rods through the whole thing in a rough mesh, just to help the stability. They could pour it all in one go, but the techs had blathered on about minimizing the heat of hydration—whatever the hell that was—and recommended they do it in slabs.

While the clones were handling that part of the scutwork, they had shifted to the roof to poke at the tiles up there. Hayato carefully used his Storm Flames to cut a square out to be shifted away, so they could see down into the topmost level of the building.

“He has a smelter he uses,” Sin said, “so we either need to plan for venting out the side of the building, or have that up top.”

“From what I remember of his compound,” Daemon said, “we should probably go down three floors, at least. That’d give him a smelting level, a workroom level, and a living level, plus the very top for a garden?”

“Well, let’s ask.” Tsuna opened a window to see the man in question busy packing things away into a storage trunk. “Ciao, Talbot. We had a few questions about your new place.”

“Oh?”

He explained the situation and said, “How many floors, you think?”

“Eh, one for smelting and storage, one for work space, one for living, and one for incidentals. And a rooftop garden would not be so bad, though I expect it would have to be local vegetation up there, what with the radiation issue.”

“Which reminds me that we need to include decontamination and an air filtration system. And one of those moisture condenser/purifier deals. Okay, we have a plan, then, and we’ll let you get back to prepping. Once we have everything built we can give you a virtual tour so you can let us know if there’s anything we missed.”

Talbot nodded and waved, so Tsuna closed the window.

“Four floors, then. I’d say fill in all the other floors just to be absolutely certain the structure can handle the strain at the top, but… so long as there are load-bearing walls below, it should be all right.”

“It’s fifteen storeys… Yeah, we’ll just add in some walls on the floor below to distribute weight,” he said. “We can get that done, then patch up the floor where the staircase was. We also need to fill in that access stairwell to up here, so no raiders can make a surprise visit. Okay, let’s get this done.”

Talbot was shifted over a week later. The teleporter had been placed on the Incidentals floor, in a secure room. There was a keycard reader on either side to help ensure his privacy. True, any Sky could just fly up there, or Enma, but in the event of Talbot failing to respond to any visits or messages, Verde could make a one-use card so someone could go check on him.

The smelting level vented to the outside with a clever system to help disperse any steam or smoke or whatever, to help disguise that someone lived there. The only people who would be able to tell otherwise was someone looking over from Trinity Tower, perhaps, and that place was infested with super mutants.

The generators were on the floor below, with the load-bearing walls, just to make a bit of use of the space, and they had placed a Recycler and Fabricator in the storage area, just in case. Talbot seemed satisfied with his new accommodations, and they had used plans made from the contents of that odd little apartment building in Goodneighbor to furnish the living area floor, so it looked quite snazzy.

Talbot was also given one of the updated Pip-Boys for communication purposes, because something like the internet they were familiar with was still a distant dream, though Tsuna had no doubt Verde was working on the issue. He would not be the least bit surprised if a requisition for satellites from λ10 came in so the man could figure out how to launch them into stationary orbit.

Hell, if they could get a visual on an existing satellite with a telescope, there was nothing stopping a spacesuit-wearing Samsara from shifting up to place some themselves.

That being handled, Tsuna’s crew shifted over to help with the vault.

“We are just about to the border of Vault 75, so we’d like to requisition additional guards,” he said.

Xanxus nodded. “Picked out a new crew yesterday and had them prep. They’re in the push room right now, loaded for bear.”

“Awesome.” He took care of shifting them over and let Daemon handle orientation in the background. “Talbot has been shifted to his new accommodations. Teleporter access. Visitors will need to use the intercom to get access, though if there’s an emergency, someone can fly up or get a temporary keycard from Verde to see why he’s not responding. He’s also been issued a Pip-Boy for messaging. So that’s sorted.

“The generator room has been dug out and a bunch of fusion generators installed, so there’s more than enough power, with a decontamination airlock just in case. Cables have been run into Vault 121, and most of the way to 75. Once we get that gutted and rebuilt, we’ll have our warehouse and can begin accepting livestock to place into stasis.

“After that, I suppose we could see about handling Vault 113, under Fairline Hill Estates. Or gutting Vault 111 and converting it to a manufactory. Or we could get to work on Spectacle, though I’d prefer to wait on the island until everyone is here. If we stumble over any other vaults, well, we’ll see about annexing those. Though, I’ve heard word there is a single vault in the Commonwealth that’s still functioning, so if that’s accurate we’ll leave them be.”

“I would think Vault 113,” Enma said. “More housing, if nothing else. There’s a lot of people signing up to make the jump.”

“Then I think one of the things you lot should be stockpiling is stuff that can be frozen,” Hayato said. “Sure, they have hydroponics online and we’re waiting on a harvest, but it’s not producing yet. I can’t imagine anyone wants to eat the irradiated nightmares they have here. Soon as we have the warehouse ready we can throw a ton of chest or upright freezers in there, too.”

“Past a certain point it’ll tip in our favor,” Yuni said, “with a place for the livestock, hydroponics with ready crops, a place to plant various food-producing trees, but yes, I agree. We will add it to the list and start purchasing as soon as you give the word.”

“And if necessary, we can trade with an alternate,” he said, “though I’d prefer not to have to. In other good news, Verde has made fabrication plans for essential items, like toilet paper.”

Several people on the other side blinked at him.

“Which also reminds me. If you can source some auto-looms, that’d be great. Verde can manage quite a bit in the way of fabrication plans, but it’s very useful to have examples he can break down first. Any other machinery that might be useful should also be sourced. I admit, I’ve never really thought much about manufacturing, so I’m not the best person to make a list.

“Printing presses might be one, though. I already assume you’re planning to bring any number of desktops, laptops, printers, etc., but it wouldn’t hurt to get a few shipments of the various components, OS discs… Whatever you can think of, basically, that you don’t think could simply be made with a Fabricator, or would have to be made as components and then assembled.”

“We’ll work on it,” Dino said.

“We’ve been thinking that a daily meeting isn’t strictly necessary,” Reborn said. “We can leave messages here for you to read, and be here in person if there’s a need to have an actual discussion. Also, you can easily shift a message over if you want to arrange a proper meeting, or just had something you want to mention. You could just glance in once a day and see what the situation is. We can also set up video conferencing, so that anyone who needs to go to their home base for some reason can still participate.”

He nodded. “That sounds fine. I’m sure a lot of people would like to be reassured personally, get briefings, and so forth, from their respective leaders. So yes. Assign someone to drop off printouts of any messages, or requests for a proper meeting, and I’ll glance in daily your time for pickups, to drop off messages, or to keep the window open for something more involved.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else for the moment,” Fon said, looking around.

“In that case, we’ll trundle off and see about those two vaults.”

Once the window had been stored he said, “Let’s see about that damn tunnel, then. Well, as soon as the new Varia members are situated. We already have a housing trunk for them, right?”

Xeul nodded. “Already furnished and labeled, so it can be lugged along with us.”

Hayato and his Storm Flames was very handy when it came to ripping the guts out of Vault 75. They could have acquired some torches to cut with, or jig-saws, but no one was keen on the idea. Various walls and floors and machines were sliced and diced, so to speak, and shifted off to be Recycled into tidy little material cubes.

The Varia was prowling around the whole time, guns and Flames ready, in the event that more Gunners showed up, though one was forward enough to say, “We gonna block off that entrance?”

Tsuna nodded. “Soon as we know there isn’t any unexpected weirdness we have to deal with, we’ll set up a metal grid, build the molds, and start pouring. Block off that vault door entirely from the inside. Might even rip out the remote access pedestal outside and/or fill that area with concrete, too. Make it damn fucking clear the vault is gone for all intents and purposes.”

“We could also scrap the school up there, fill with concrete, then a layer of dirt,” Daemon said. Make it disappear, essentially.”

He nodded. “Clones could handle most of it. Once we have this all scavenged, air, water, and power lines are in place…”

Vault 113 was far simpler than 75, if only because the only part of it that was “finished” was the entrance area. Everything beyond that was just an excavated space, like at 121. There was a room hidden off to one side with a malfunctioning vault-style generator, which needed to be carefully disposed of.

Once that was dealt with, the room was finished off properly and functioning generators were installed, as well as a decontamination airlock. A good half of the tech/engineer guys were shifted over to make their measurements and create a building plan. They had a good ten levels to work with (though it went up rather than up and down) and three excavated areas, so there was more to work with than he had initially thought.

The other “bonus” for Vault 113 was the above ground housing area which, while presently a mess, could be scrapped and converted into a compound. The vault entrance was at the bottom of a long lift ride, much as with Vault 111. There was (presumably) nothing stopping them from excavating sideways, to add more “wings” to the overall structure.

The second Varia team had been installed over there for protection. Their housing trunk was brought along, as well as a goodly supply of foods in a stasis container, for them and the tech people. Vault 113 had only one set of rooms for a Sky and their guardians, under the assumption that at some point, the above ground area would be developed and it would all be turned over to a single Famiglia.

Above ground could be walled in to denote the territory and for protection and, if they felt like being fancy, roofed over, with the walls from ten feet and up, including the ceiling, runed to hell and back like the ceiling at the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Just because everyone would technically be inside it was no reason they could not see the sky. Or they used bullet-proof glass for a quasi-greenhouse effect.

Either way, it would need the air filtration system expanded to accommodate that, and probably the water condensing/filtrating system. It already had hydroponics, a room for a Recycler and Fabricator, storage, work rooms, a communal kitchen and cafeteria, and a ton of housing.

There was technically nothing stopping them from doing their own excavations under likely spots and building vaults there, too, so long as Verde could make plans for the door systems. He was already eyeing up the National Guard Training Facility, though Fort Hagen was also an option (with the bonus of the main building not needing to be dug out first).

University Point was another option, though probably strictly above ground, since it was right on the water. In the game parts of the building there had flooded in the basements, so he wasn’t sure how much trouble it would be to excavate for a vault. (He also wondered if there were still synths lurking there, idly patrolling and collecting scrap for an Institute that no longer existed.)

Once Vault 113 was done he asked Verde about fabrication plans for walls, and the man handed over another flash drive. A check of the contents showed quite a number of castle-style walls. Plain ones (though quite thick), ones that angled up, thick ones that had narrow interior halls with embrasures, massive retaining walls…

Tsuna beamed at him and trundled off to go plan with the techs.

“The warehouse is ready to receive live goods,” he reported at the next meeting. It felt like it’d been forever since he had had a chance to just relax with his loved ones and he was itching to go off and do something else, even if it was setting up settlements for the Minutemen and the common folk.

“Then we will get the livestock we’ve arranged for ready for shifting,” Yuni said.

“And all the crops,” Dino added. “The seed banks are technically ready right now, but since those are fine as they are we haven’t bothered to put them in the push room. We went a bit crazy there, because why not.”

“And because I insisted,” Reborn said, with an amused glance at his erstwhile “student”.

Dino scowled. “We will take delivery on all the seedlings, and then we’ll be ready to go.”

“We have a major stockpile of metals and other materials ready to go,” Byakuran said, almost startling Tsuna. It was the first time the man had said anything during one of the meetings.

“We have acquired quite a number of machines for Verde to make plans for,” Enma said, “in addition to computer components and assembled machines with all their peripherals. And software. DVDs, players, that kind of stuff. Entertainment, basically.”

Once everyone reported their progress Tsuna nodded and said, “Awesome. We’ve also completed construction on Vault 113. And that includes the start of above ground complex, fully walled off and covered by a ton of turrets with Verde’s IFF. It’s kind of like a massive greenhouse up there from ten feet up, so people topside will get sunlight without the radiation.

“We’ve done the same at Vault 121, so both have a fair amount of surface territory we can develop. I have my eye on several places we could annex and do the same for. But, in any case, do we have numbers? Because we’ll need to know how many trunks we need to make to handle what the vaults can’t in terms of housing.

“Should probably also shift any cooks you guys have willing to come. Right now the tech guys and the Varia are all subsisting on canned goods and other super simple stuff, except when I’m feeling expansive and decide to cook a mass dinner. That’s had the unfortunate side effect of grumbling when I’m not in the mood.”

“Considering just how delicious your cooking is, I’m not surprised,” Enma said. “Shimon is ready to shift at any time. We’re very small, as you know. Only a few dozen people.”

“Would you prefer we put housing trunks for your people up on your floor, then? We could do them in a door style and just put them up against the wall in one of the hallways.”

“That’s fine. It’d leave more space for larger famiglie in the communal area.”

“Done.”

“I’ve gone through all my men,” Dino said with a slight frown. “Sadly, though understandably, the majority of them have families who are terrified of the idea and flat out refuse to go, despite the situation here. That brings me down to more like a thousand people.”

Tsuna heaved a sigh and nodded. “Then when you’ve got the seedlings ready to go, I see no reason why Cavallone can’t shift.”

“One question though,” Dino said. “Horses. I’ve been ambivalent…”

Tsuna shook his head. “I mean, we could? But they’d be a luxury and useless for travel. Without protection they’d start mutating. They’d only work for relaxation and exercise in a walled compound.”

Dino nodded, as if expecting that answer. “It’s hard to decide sometimes. You’ve explained what it’s like there, but without seeing it for myself…”

“Smaller animals would be fine, like cats, ferrets, dogs, and caged creatures, but nothing big aside from cattle for Spectacle. Sheep. Goats. Pigs. The only way to justify horses would be as food, and I’ll not willingly eat them.”

Dino shuddered and shook his head. “Yeah, no.”

“We’re not that big, either,” Yuni said, “about a thousand people, so once we have the last of our stockpile ready to go, we’d be ready, too.”

Gesso weighed in at a thousand, the Varia at one hundred (of which almost half had already been shifted), and the Arcobaleno and CEDEF was only eight, though Skull (almost predictably) said, “My motorcycle? And the airship?”

“The motorcycle, yes. The roads around here are often a mess, but you should still be able to ride places on it. The airship is iffy, if only because the Brotherhood of Steel had one and terrified quite a number of people before we blew it sky high. You’ve got the logo on the side, though, right?”

Skull nodded. “Oodako.”

“We can try it. It’d have to be outfitted with filtration, though, for the radiation. I think I can shift something that big? Maybe? You’d be a potential target for people who don’t care to notice it’s not Brotherhood, though, or raiders taking potshots at you, keep that in mind. It’d be a beacon for the wrong sorts to come sniffing around. Either way, once you’re here, we can get together and talk about a place for you, separate from everyone else, so you don’t feel suffocated.”

Skull nodded, looking slightly worried that his beloved airship was off the table.

“If someone wants to buy up a bunch of motorcycles that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Not sure on the fuel issue, though. These people all went with fusion to power things when fossil fuels worldwide dried up and I don’t know if a motorcycle can be converted. Maybe Verde can break down some of the vehicles here that aren’t completely rusted out and come up with something.”

“There might be hybrid cycles, or ones that run on alternative fuels, like ethanol or fuel cells,” Sin said. “Check into it, because otherwise, you’re all traveling by teleporter or on foot. Which isn’t terrible, because it’s good exercise, but it can be a bit violent at times.”

“Leto, Basil, Colonnello, and I can handle that,” Lal said. “Unless you can think of a reason to not spend a huge chunk of Vongola money.”

Tsuna snorted in amusement. “Go for it. Spend all you want. CEDEF had a big budget, so go wild. Enma, do you need to bring your people in from Japan, or…?”

Enma shook his head. “We’ve all been staying at a nearby hotel. I can have them here in an hour. All the equipment we purchased is here, in one of rooms Verde emptied for his shift.”

“Awesome. Why don’t you give them a call to start moving.”

Enma nodded and stepped away from the table to use his cell phone.

“Anyone else who wants to come with this push?”

The Arcobaleno all raised their hands, Lal, Colonnello, and Viper excepted. “Things already at Verde’s or…?”

“Yes,” Reborn said, “once Verde had shifted over. We saw no reason to not consolidate. The only issue would be Skull’s airship.”

“All right. I can open windows on each—”

“Not that many at once,” Daemon objected, scowling.

“All right, all right,” he said. “One at a time, then. I can open a window, follow you to where you have your things, and do the shift. Then we move to the next.”

Reborn, being who he was, immediately raised his hand.

Tsuna smirked. “Of course, Ren. After you.” Was it a surprise to anyone that Reborn had a hideously expensive espresso maker in his belongings? Two of them, even? A full wardrobe and a cabinet of expensive booze? His things were shifted straight to his suite, and Reborn himself shifted to Tsuna’s group.

Fon and Lichi went next, and he was far less extravagant. Skull was not much of a hoarder, so he did not have much to be shifted, and the motorcycle was easy. The airship, though… “I’m sorry, it just … doesn’t want to go. You’ll want to grab anything inside you want to keep. Maybe we can make a new one on this side.”

Skull wilted and moped into it so he could collect some things, then appeared a short time later carrying various packs and crates, with a small Oodako perched on his head. It was a good thing he could augment his own strength. Tsuna shifted him over and said, “Put all that down for now. I’ll shift it to straight to the suite set aside for you.”

To all three of them he said, “We’ll have a tour in a bit.”

By that time Shimon was ready, so after Enma showed him where their stockpile was and Tsuna had shifted it straight to the warehouse, he shifted their belongings—to each suite, or to one of the storage rooms on their level, for the rank and file—then the people of Shimon themselves.

“We’ll probably be the next to come,” Xanxus said.

“All right. Get everything together and we can do it next meeting. Estimate on that?”

“Two days.”

“We can do the same as we’re doing for Shimon if you prefer. Put the additional housing on the Varia level.”

“Preferably.”

“Done. We’ll get it set up. All right, folks, unless there’s something else, we’ll be shifting the next group in two days your time. And whatever live stuff you have ready.”

Once the window was closed he turned to the newcomers and said, “If you’ll follow me, I can show you to your suites.” Skull, Reborn, and Fon were shown first, as they were on the level just above the entrance. Skull’s suite was, naturally, in the opposite wing from Reborn’s. “This central area here, as I mentioned before, can be whatever you want it to be. A conference room, a lobby, a dining area, whatever.”

Shimon was shown to their floor to get situated. “Right this second we have existing housing trunks in the storage areas, but we’re going to make door-style trunks, for you and for the Varia, so that’ll change shortly. Same here for the central part, you guys decide. We can move in whatever furniture you want here. At some point we’ll be able to set up compounds for each family, so we’re not all crowded in like sardines. Come down when you’re ready and we’ll tour Vault 121.”

He gave the same message to the three Arcobaleno as he headed back down, and they just followed him into the lift. “Soon as Shimon gets here, we’ll do the tour.”

“I admit, I’m rather excited to see topside,” Reborn said. “Sounds like there’s a lot of things to shoot.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Oh, that reminds me. Verde managed to come up with a personal jetpack based off the ones some of the power armor suits have, so you can fabricate ones for yourselves. We’ll see about that once we get to that room, so Shimon also knows. Enma can fly, but the others? Not so much.”

“Where is Samsara living?” Fon asked.

“My storage. Once we got working Recyclers and Fabricators from Verde we built a house in there. Ken made a big garden. We built some warehouses… Also a decontamination room for when we come back from a trip in the Commonwealth, just so we don’t muck things up.”

Shimon showed up at that point, so Tsuna turned tour guide. “This is the entrance, so let’s show you topside first.” He trundled off through the subway station and up through the exit. The walls up there had walkways around the interior edge, so it was no trouble for anyone to see out past them.

“It’s not as desolate as I expected,” Enma said. “But it’s still pretty bad.”

“There’s a lot of nuclear waste to clean up, and the Glowing Sea is a nightmare. You can see it at night, in the distance.” He pointed southwest. “Kind of like a fucked up Northern Lights, but ground-based and green. Over there is the entrance, a decontamination airlock. You can’t see them from here, but there’s a fuckton of turrets attached to the exterior, to warn outsiders off, or slaughter them if the IFF determines they’re hostile. The entrance also houses the filtration systems, for air and collected water. That aside, there’s far too much up here to show in a simple tour, so…”

Back inside he headed into the atrium. “Stairs only at the moment,” he said as he walked down. “Back behind this set is the main staircase, heading all the way down to the bottom. Hydroponics is down there for you to have a look, hydroponics storage, and a handful of other things. Most of the floors aside from the two atrium floors are housing. Two-person bedrooms with a small en suite, though we could double the beds if we had to.

“We also have the teleporter back there. We had to break through the concrete to dig back a little to fit in a room for it, so it could have a keyed door. Which reminds me,” he said. “Let’s head to the Fabricator so you can all get outfitted with Pip-Boys. Those have the electronic signal necessary to open the teleporter room door, so you’ll kind of need them. And for messaging.”

Daemon and Sin joined the party and trooped down all those sets of stairs to get to the lowest floor, where the Recycler and Fabricator had been set up (along with a smaller storage room) in an area with double-height walls. Tsuna walked them through how to use both, then began to run off a number of Pip-Boys for their use.

“Anyone want a jetpack? If you do, you can fabricate one here. And if there aren’t enough materials in the storage here, I’ll show you where to get them. Let’s poke into hydroponics for a moment, then we can teleport or walk over to the warehouse, and then teleport to Vault 113 for a quick trip.”

Two days later the remainder of the Varia was shifted over, with all their gear. Tsuna would have let Daemon handle orientation, but he was dealing with a fellow Sky, and felt better about handling it personally. They got the same tour as Shimon and the Arcobaleno, then Xanxus and Squalo went off to check-in with the four dozen men who had been shifted over earlier as guards.

After that it was a steady stream of clones making trunks or doors in the background while Tsuna shifted over groups of personnel or trunks of goods. He could only thank kami that there were a fair number of women being shifted over, because the famiglie had to reproduce somehow, and doing so with the damaged DNA of the Commonwealth residents was a potentially chancy proposition.

Daemon or one of the others did handle that part of orientation, as the Skies and their Guardians were coming last. They also handled orientation for the remainder of the Arcobaleno, Basil, and Leto, though the children (as I-Pin, Lambo, and Futa had been grouped with CEDEF, as they were nominally Vongola) were shuffled off to a play room with a volunteer minder to keep an eye on them.

They were accumulating a massive stock of dry goods, canned goods, frozen goods, materials, machines, and so forth, and Verde (along with Spanner and Shoichi, who had been coaxed into coming) were having a field day breaking shit down so that fabrication plans could be made, either in their entirety or as parts.

Once everyone who was coming was finally over (there were a lot of trunks and doors being used, because most game vaults weren’t rated for more than a thousand people each) he held a mass briefing and, since he was using local windows and not dimensional ones, Daemon didn’t chuck a wobbly over him opening so many at once so that groups of people in various rooms could all see.

“So, an overview of what you can expect to encounter in the Commonwealth. I’m going to project memories so you have more than just a verbal description. This—” He projected a behemoth. “—is a behemoth. Note the shopping trolley on its back. They’re like the mutated bag ladies of the Commonwealth. They are mutated humans, I believe, just way bigger than super mutants. They like to throw things at you.

“This—” He projected a new image. “—is a super mutant. They’re able to talk, but they aren’t very smart. They’re a result of experimentation with the Forced Evolution Virus, or FEV. They eat humans and anything else they can get their hands on. If you see metal spikes and suspended bloody bags, you’ve got a super mutant infestation.

“I’ve heard there are occasional non-hostile super mutants, so I’d be cautious if you encounter one on its own. In groups they’re generally always hostile. It’s the loners who might ignore us. One particular variant of super mutant is the type that carries a mini-nuke. If you hear a steady beeping noise, bug the fuck out. Get up high or far enough away. Find that fucker and take out its leg, head, whatever, just preferably not the nuke.

“This is a deathclaw. It’s mutated from some kind of lizard. I forget which offhand and it doesn’t matter. They’re deadly, of course. If you feel the world shake, odds are it’s one of these. Might be a behemoth, but those are rare. They also roar. Same advice there. Get up high, shoot until it’s dead.

“This is a radscorpion. These fuckers can burrow. I can’t stress that enough. One second you’re fine or even see one in the distance, the next this bastard is right next to you, with those claws and that stinger. More common toward the Glowing Sea, but don’t count on being safe more to the north. Try to get up high or onto rock, which they can’t burrow through. I speculate that they can detect vibrations, which would explain how they know you’re around.

“This is a mole rat. They also burrow, and tend to come in packs. Some of them even have mines strapped to them. I don’t even want to know why. Just be aware of it. Following that are the insects. Bloatflies, which I think are mutated black flies. They like to shoot their own larvae at you and generally come in a group.

“Next are stingwings, as the locals call them, a mutation of some other kind of fly. They’re venomous and usually come in groups. The other insect is a bloodbug, what used to be a mosquito. They will suck your blood and even shoot it back at you to blind you. Radroaches are also a thing, and you’ll be thrilled to know they’re huge.

“Up next are mirelurks and their variants. They seem to be crabs and lobsters, maybe crayfish. There are also queen variants which are quite tall. If you see eggs at the water’s edge, expect mirelurks to be, well, lurking. Expecting them to be around any watery area is probably not a bad policy.

“Radstags may or may not be hostile. They’re two-headed deer, basically. I’ve run across family groups of them. Brahmin are your basic cattle and are almost never hostile, so just ignore them if you encounter one in the wild. There are mongrels all over the place, mutated dogs, though there are some who have mysteriously managed to come through normally. The dogs are almost always feral.

“The last animal I can think of is this, the yao guai, or bear. The name comes from the Chinese and I don’t remember why and it doesn’t matter. They’re always hostile and can take a fair amount of punishment.

“For other humanoid hostiles we have feral ghouls up first. Humans who were irradiated and it destroyed their brains. Non-feral ghouls are mostly normal people, just unpleasant to look at, like burn victims. On the flip side, there are plenty of ghouls who are part of gangs here, like the Triggermen. They got the whole Mob deal going on. The outfits, the weapons… They aren’t usually hostile unless you encroach on their territory.

“Raiders are mostly normal humans, though a lot of them have turned cannibal. As a result of that and the chems they use, they’re generally all bugnuts and generally always hostile. You’re unlikely to run into a hostile Gen-3 synth, and you can’t tell they’re synths anyway, so let’s move on aside from the Coursers. They dress in all black, as you can see, and will probably be hostile. Assuming any are left.

“Gen-2 synths resemble my dear friend Nick Valentine, except they don’t rock the noir detective look. Now, we blew the Institute sky high, so there shouldn’t be a lot, but there might be some stragglers. Generally speaking, they’re hostile. The same applies to the Gen-1 synths, which are, as you can see, a bit less polished and even more limited. They all look the same, with the only difference being how much damage they’ve taken. If they’re wearing armor it’s white. The Institute was super keen on white and light grey, like they were angels or something.

“Speaking of, there might be human Institute stragglers who are hostile. We did, after all, destroy their home. Sounding the evacuation alarm and allowing them to escape won’t have made it all good, I have to assume. Either they’ll go native and start wearing surface gear, or you’ll know them by outfits like these.” He swapped the image for various people he had seen in there, so they had an idea of their style. “But really, if someone shoots at you, they shouldn’t expect to survive the encounter.

“Who am I forgetting…?”

“The Children of Atom,” Daemon said helpfully.

“Right, them.” He swapped the image again. “These people are cultists. They think Atom is their god, and that they should be as one with the radiation, and eventually divide. Or something. Most of them are bugnuts and hostile. There’s a group in the Glowing Sea that isn’t immediately hostile, so I suppose there are more out there. They use gamma guns, which irradiate the fuck out of you. Have plenty of Rad-X, RadAway, and stimpacks on hand. Or a Sun who has learned how to heal radiation damage.”

He paused as Sin handed him a note. “Right. Next up is the Forged. They’re a weird bunch obsessed with fire out at Saugus Ironworks, according to my beloved family. Always hostile if you get too close, and lean toward using flamethrowers as their weapons. The Gunners, which tout themselves as a mercenary for hire group, but are more likely to gun down anything that moves. I wouldn’t trust them.

“The last bunch is the Pillars of the Community. You’ll run into them at the Charles View Amphitheatre, and it’s a conman running a cult, the kind that asks you to hand over all your worldly goods and check your brain at the door.

“I’m sure there are more groups out there, and mutated animals, but this is what we’ve encountered here in the Commonwealth. Everyone else either lives in a settlement or is looking for one, or is part of a trading caravan, which brings me to these guys.

“The Minutemen. A home-grown militia, basically. Generally good people, maybe a little naïve, but just trying to protect themselves and the common people. I’ve already encountered them and helped them out. Probably will some more as part of my usual ‘try to make the world better’ thing.

“Diamond City. Built inside Fenway Park. Mostly okay people, though there is a snobby set there—” He turned to Sin and said quietly, “We need to stop in there soon. There’s something we need to take care of,” then went back to the briefing. “They have the usual shops—weapons, scrap, an eatery, chem dealer, doctor, even a radio station.

“Goodneighbor. Out at Scollay Square. A mix of normal humans and non-feral ghouls. Their motto is ‘of the people, for the people’ and their mayor is a ghoul. It’s also the home of the Triggermen. They also have the usual shops, plus the Memory Den, where you can experience past memories like you’re in a VR simulator. The weapons store is run by an Assaultron and I can’t believe I didn’t mention the robots.

“But first, Bunker Hill, at the same-named location. They’re a bit … suspicious, over there. It’s not a big settlement, but the caravaners sweep through on their routes. The only reason I could see to go there is to buy scrap, and why bother when there’s so much out there to break down and recycle?

“There are various small settlements here and there, but nothing major. There is one group I could explain, but I won’t. I’m going to let them get on with what they’re doing. If you hear someone is from the Railroad just leave them be. The Brotherhood of Steel should just be stragglers. They believe that we can’t be trusted with technology, so they try to gather all of it up so they can store it—or use it themselves.

“We blew their airship up, so… We did shift any children off first, and that reminds me that we need to figure out what to do with those kids. They’re asleep at the moment, but… Stragglers may or may not be actively hostile. They love power armor—” He changed the image again. “—and stomp around a lot. When this bunch doesn’t get into contact with their base farther west, we might see more show up.”

He shrugged. “So, robots,” he said. “Assaultrons, which are very fast, very deadly, and have a laser beam of sorts they can shoot off from their heads. They can also use optical camoflague. Sentry Bots, also rather deadly and well armored. Be careful of getting too close, because if you blow their fusion core, that’s a heap of radiation. Both are military robots.

“Protectrons. Not generally hostile, unless it’s a police model, and then it may turn on you if you have a weapon out. They’re painted by their job type. Firefighters have cryo weapons, medical have shock, and so forth.

“Eyebots. Some float around speaking advertisements. Others… Not so sure. Not usually hostile. Mr Gutsy, another military robot. Almost always hostile, but some might be confused about what year it is and let you pass peacefully. Their cousins, the Mr Handy, are almost always non-hostile. They were used by the common folk as assistants in their homes.

“Miss Nanny is the ‘female’ counterpart to the Mr Handy, but aside from a voice difference, they really aren’t that different. Almost always non-hostile, as well. The last one I can think of is a Robobrain, but I’ve only seen mentions of them. It’s a robot with a human brain running the show, which is icky. Don’t have any real data on them.

“I’m parched, so I am going to turn this over to Daemon so he can answer any questions.”

With that he sat down, shifted in a butterbeer, and had some so he could soothe his throat. Sin took the seat next to him and bumped his shoulder, so he sent a private-mode message of, McDonough is a synth. Next time we go there we should expect that all hell will have broken loose.

“I honestly don’t know what we can do about those children,” Sin said quietly, so as not to be heard over Daemon.

“I don’t, either. I just don’t know. Maybe one of them will have an idea.”

Some time later, once the questions had died down—or people were getting hungry and wanted to break for a meal—they were able to finish up. He invited the Skies, Guardians, and Arcobaleno to assemble for a Tsuna-cooked meal and found a spare room for that, then opened a window so they could still talk while he worked. He and Sin headed to storage and began to cook ossobuco and the odd side.

“I imagine we’ll need to start leading out teams of people so they can become accustomed to their new reality,” he said, briefly looking up. “That would set them up to do scrap runs, to scout locations… There are huge stretches farther north that are just wilderness. We could easily annex that. Take down the trees, level it out, build a compound. With the teleporters, it’s not like our people can’t easily interact.”

“I agree,” Yuni said. “Fitting so many people into two vaults—well, it’s cramped. But it’s temporary. The faster our people can be actively out there the better. We just have to ensure all teams have Pip-Boys, ammunition, medical supplies…”

Sin said, “The schematics for those teleporters had recall devices. I assume they could be targeted to a specific teleporter, so the teams could get back quickly. And maybe if we had beacons of some kind it’d be easier to find our way back to a location that could work for a compound.”

“Spectacle looked fantastic size-wise,” Dino said, “but more above ground space means more livestock. Same deal? The walls and greenhouse effect?”

Tsuna nodded. “Yes. I do have some ideas for potential places that aren’t wilderness, though. Fort Hagen is large. It’s not just the building we had to go through. There’s a hospital, various other buildings. That whole base could be converted. University Point is a maybe, though it’d need a retaining wall on the water side, leveling… Fort Strong maybe, but the Brotherhood had that recently. We’d have to be careful going in, see what it’s like in there, and I’m not sure how big it really is.”

“Spectacle should probably be our next focus aside from getting teams ready to wander without a member of Samsara on hand,” Reborn said. “The sooner we get the livestock awake the better. No importing from one of your friends in another dimension.”

“Agreed,” said Dino and Lal.

“Then we need a team ready to dig trenches down to rock so we can set walls we fabricate. I’m willing to put a teleporter out there if we’re actively on the island and it’s guarded. Techs to figure out dimensions and shit, quantities, etc. Once the walls are up, at least as retaining walls, we can level it and plan out various floors, rooms, etc.

“Maybe it would be better to keep the lowest level open, like a big open square, for the livestock, with the building all around it, or multiple squares. We can take a trip out so you can see it in person, not just through a window. As long as it’s all capped with the glass and the air filtration is in, it should be fine. The island is huge.”

“As for teams,” Daemon said, “we could have a pair from Samsara with each as guides, at least for the first few batches, then they could take over later ones. It makes little sense for Samsara to be the guides for three thousand plus people.”

“Also agreed.”

“We can each pick out our best people,” Dino said, “for the initial teams. Samsara takes them on a field trip. Maybe a second round.”

“And once that is handled, we can get back to other issues, such as shifting things around, or stuff like finding the perfect spot for Skull’s hideaway. Various other tasks. Now that we’re all in the same place, and have Pip-Boys, it doesn’t matter as much if Samsara is off building a settlement or something. You can message us. There’s a ton of places we haven’t poked into yet. Who knows what we might find.”

He and Sin finished up, shifted the fruits of their labor over, then joined the others for dinner.

Spectacle Island got its own, temporarily-placed teleporter and generator, plus another group of Varia as guards. A quick house was tossed up using fabricated pieces and housing trunks or doors added so they and the techs had someplace to sleep that wasn’t exposed to the elements. It was going to take the techs there a fair amount of time to figure plans out, so Samsara went off to play guides.

One of the first places Tsuna and Sin took a team was into Malden proper, and their ducklings got their first close-up look at feral ghouls at Med-Tek Research. Tsuna knew he could not go all the way through the facility (unless he harmonized through something) due it being quest-related for MacCready, but they could still potentially do a scrap job on a fair part of it.

They had already gone through Medford Memorial Hospital for the Railroad, so they skipped that. The Slocum’s Joe HQ, however, was a quick rout of the few raiders in there. He picked up a franchise kit and some recipes in there, ingredients he didn’t dare trust, some machines (a donut fryer and a coffee and tea maker), and uniforms.

They headed east and a bit north first after that, because Tsuna just knew there was a bunker over there, though he could not remember which one, east of Greentop Nursery (a place he would more than likely visit for the Minutemen). He knew he was in the right place when a vertibird landing pad emerged from the greenery.

He got a discovery message for Listening Post Bravo and was immediately fired upon by two turrets. The men with him responded beautifully by shooting them until they exploded. The upper part of the bunker had a Protectron on watch, also hostile, and easily destroyed.

A locked cage door was inside, protecting a cabinet with ammunition. A desk, filing cabinet, and chair took up the center of the small space, the desk terminal on top broken and useless. Crates, barrels, and another cabinet were along the walls, with a lift door and matching wall terminal.

“Crowd around, folks,” Sin said. “Let’s have a lesson on hacking pre-war terminals.”

Power was diverted to the lift shortly thereafter and they all crammed in to ride down. The basement level was much larger, and might make for a nice hideaway for Skull once it was cleaned up and refurbished. And the yao guai corpse removed. How the thing had survived down there long enough for them to shoot was a mystery to everyone.

The side room was blocked by debris, but going through a break in the wall to a dirt excavation, where the bear was, revealed a similar wall break leading back there. He opened a window and hunted Skull down so he could show the place and ask, “How much room would you like? Because this place is near the main vault, but still a bit isolated.”

“Uh… Can you shift me over there briefly?”

“Sure.” He did just that and waited as Skull poked around.

“And up the lift?”

“Just a small bunker set into the rock face. There’s more than enough room here to put a bedroom and bathroom in that side room, storage and crafting in the cave part if we finish it off, and the rest for a kitchen and living.”

“Yeah,” Skull said, nodding slightly. “This could work. A teleporter down here in case the lift decides to fail, maybe a decontamination airlock upstairs…”

“Awesome. I’ll mark it off as yours, then. We’ll come back later to clean it up, make the changes…”

Skull was shifted back and Tsuna’s group used the lift, then headed off south in the general direction of the National Guard Training Yard he knew was over that way, bypassing the radio tower.

“Hear that sound? Stingwings on the left,” Sin called out, gesturing with his gun, so the group could get in some practice.

There was brief diversion when Tsuna got a defend the checkpoint message and a marker, so they sprinted off to go handle that. Gunners were trying to eradicate a Railroad checkpoint. He found a set of power armor in the truck there, so he shifted it over to the vault.

“This area might make for a good compound,” he said as they neared the target. “Some scrapping, some walls, new buildings…” He jumped atop one of the bunker-style buildings with an Earth assist and used VATS to check for hostiles. He found several feral ghouls and called it out, once again allowing the group to get in some experience.

The training area at the back was the usual, a simple obstacle course with tires, metal pipes to crawl through, and the like. A small, squarish bunker at the back held a sentry bot, and if things held true it would spring to life the second they entered the next bunker over and subsequently exited.

He pointed it out to the group. “Look through the grate. Sentry Bot. Expect it to activate, remember to keep your distance. When they ‘die’ they explode, and they have a fusion core powering them.”

Another little bunker beyond that held only some skeletons and a crate, so he returned to the bigger bunker. “Anyone want to try picking the lock?”

Inside was a bunch of laser tripwires to be disabled or hopped over, a maglock door into a room with a ghoul and another set of power armor plus a station for it, and a caged off room with crafting stations.

The wall terminal that controlled the power armor room was hacked, the door opened, and the feral terminated with prejudice. The power armor and station were shifted to the vault.

Valentine chose that moment to say dryly, “You know, what it lacks in charm, it makes up for in … wait, I’ll come up with something.”

Several of the men snickered.

There was another ghoul back in the crafting room, and a deactivated Protectron in its pod. And, sure enough, the second they stepped outside that sentry bot opened fire, startling the hell out of most of the group and sending them into a shooting frenzy as they rapidly backed away from the massive robot.

“Looks like it’s just the main building left,” he said once the thing was downed and looted. The back door was a maglock and the terminal to open it on the inside of the mesh wall, so they headed to the front.

A sweep of the front building—the recruitment center, he thought?—revealed a whole lot more ghouls to down, plus a beacon and a dead member of the Brotherhood, a Knight Astlin going by the holotags and a holotape on the body. A listen to it revealed:

> “Knight Tara Astlin. Brotherhood of Steel Recon Team 429-Alpha. Serial number 3431. It’s been three hours since I set my distress pulser. There’s been no word from the Paladin or Faris. Their objective was the satellite array on the coast. They may be out of range. My orders were to hold this position at all costs. The entire site has been overrun. The door won’t last much longer. Paladin Brandis, sir. It’s been an honor, sir.”

There was a password holotape upstairs, which let them bypass hacking the wall terminal which opened the door into the breezeway between them and the barracks. Their group got more ghoul practice back there, including their first encounter with a glowing one.

Next stop on their tour was the nearby Revere Satellite Array. “See those meatbags?” he said.

“Super mutants,” one of the men replied, almost uncertainly.

“Yes. And some of them carry shit like missile launchers, mini-nuke launchers, and the ever popular suicider who wants to take you and himself out. Remember, steady beeping? Bug the fuck out and find him. Hear a whistling sound, dodge sideways a distance, just in case. So, let’s go clean this area out.”

One of the satellite dishes, once they got up to it, held a mini-nuke launcher and a set of power armor (which were confiscated and shifted, respectively). Oddly, the dead Brotherhood guy was in a different place entirely, which made precious little sense to Tsuna, in a shack up off one of the walkways. That one was Scribe Faris, apparently, going by the holotags and holotape.

Tsuna looted the shack, including the beacon—or distress pulser as they called them—and had a listen.

> “This is Faris. It’s been … two hours since the Paladin left. My leg… I can’t stanch the bleeding. Bullet must’ve hit an artery. Brandis … if you get this … I hope you made it back to Astlin in time. There was nothing you could do for me. Get to the bunker up north. You’ll survive. That’s all that … all that matters…”

“Self-sacrificing lot,” one of the men muttered. “Stupidly so, perhaps.”

“I think that’s about enough for this training trip,” he said, “so let’s head back, get cleaned up, and something to eat.”


	11. λ34: 11: Commonwealth

## λ34  
11: Commonwealth  
“Damn you, Weatherby Savings & Loan! I spit at you!”

As a courtesy to Skull they tackled the bunker after taking a second group out for orientation. Shit was scrapped, a decontamination airlock installed, the cave finished (complete with a little soaking pool for Oodako), and so forth. Skull was given his own little teleporter room with keycard and intercom, just in case anyone tried to beard him in his den, with the understanding that if he failed to respond to messages, someone would get a temporary keycard and come see if he was all right.

After that Samsara fucked off to Diamond City. Strangely, the mayor had not yet outed himself as a synth. Tsuna handed over two thousand caps to purchase the property there in town, mostly so he could install a teleporter for the famiglie to use as a shortcut (and spent the time to ward the place with runes to keep outsiders away), then wandered off to see Ellie. She had messaged Valentine that another case had come in.

“The Marty Bullfinch case. Marty was Nick’s partner. Emphasis on the ‘was’,” Ellie said. “He must’ve been some kind of desperate to come to us for help after all this time. If you see him, tell Marty I say, ‘Hey. Where’s my twenty caps, you old lech?’ Also, ‘Hi.’ It must be some kind of score to bring Marty crawling back to Nick for help. The way they parted wasn’t … pleasant.”

He nodded, wondering what that deal was about, but not inclined to be nosy, then headed out to listen to the holotape with the others.

> “Nicky, you old bucket of bolts, it’s Marty. I know it’s been a while, but I came across a little mystery I thought might get your circuits firin’. You remember that ugly grasshopper statue on top of Faneuil Hall? Turns out it’s got a note in it. A note written by the son of one Shem Drowne.
> 
> “I don’t expect that name means anything to ya, but the guy was a coppersmith way back when folks did shit like that. Apparently, this note leads straight to the old guy’s stash. I don’t know what’s in it, but I’d sure like to know if it’s still there. I’m gonna do a little recon on the hall. If you decide you wanna get the team back together, you let me know.”

“Huh, well we’ve already been by the place, so…”

They ducked into the “house” he had just bought so they could shift to Faneuil Hall, where Valentine said, “Ah, Faneuil Hall. Cradle of liberty turned slaughterhouse.”

He avoided the icky parts inside by expedient of flying up to the roof. Valentine got shifted up, and the others got there under their own power.

“Huh. Guess Marty never quite made it,” Valentine said on seeing a corpse up there. “Don’t worry, pal. We’ll close this one out for ya.”

A copper dome was up there, tilted and half buried in debris. A metal pole several feet long emerged from the top, upon which was the “gilded” grasshopper statue. He acquired it and checked for the promised note. It read:

> #### Shem Drowne made it, May 25, 1742.
> 
> To my brethren and fellow grasshoppers, Fell in ye year 1753 (1755) Nov. 13, early in ye morning by a great earthquake by my old Master above.
> 
> Again, like to have met with Utter Ruin by Fire, by hopping Timely from my Public Station, came of the broken bones and much Bruised. Cured and Fixed.
> 
> Old Master’s son Thomas Drowne June 28, 1768, and Though I will promise to Discharge my office, yet I shall vary as ye wind.
> 
> On the banks of the Charles, where forever rests Master Shem, there one can find a life’s worth.

“I’d say, the cemetery,” Valentine commented.

After handling a checkpoint issue, Tsuna followed the marker, helped off a bunch of raiders and feral ghouls, shot down a Brotherhood-controlled vertibird, then dug out a grave the marker was hovering over.

There was a unique sword, bars of copper, silver, and gold, and a note which read:

> #### Fear not.
> 
> Though the Devil’s iron makes this Blade, only he who Wields can make it Wicked.
> 
> #### —Drowne

“So, Shem Drowne had himself buried with all his treasure. Guess some people just can’t let go,” Valentine commented.

“Another case, wrapped up,” Sin said.

Tsuna was left wondering why the grave was so, well, non-compacted. It was almost as if this was Marty’s way of trying to make up? Dig out a grave, add some loot, go set up the note… But died to super mutants before he could retreat? Or maybe the local feral ghoul population had a different kind of fascination with graveyards.

“Suggestions on what to do next, since we’re free to roam again?” he asked.

“Maybe we should go investigate that crashed ship over there,” Daemon said.

Tsuna bit his lip and nodded, knowing what was coming. “Sure. After that, though, I was thinking maybe we could do the makeover of Valentine Detective Agency.”

They hopped the river and approached the ship, smack dab atop a bank. The ship itself had massive engines or rockets at the back end, as well as the front. As they approached he could see various robots moving about on the deck. A Mr Handy, a Sentry Bot…

“I don’t know what I find more disturbing,” Valentine said. “The fact that there’s a ship lodged in that building, or that there’s _still_ a ship lodged in that building.”

A bit closer and Tsuna was confronted with a Mr Handy come to investigate. “Scanning. Scanning. Accessing pre-war records. Error. Ahoy there, citizen. You are hereby conscripted into the Congressional Army.”

“…Well, that’s new,” Daemon commented.

“Pardon, sir? Regardless. The captain requests your presence on the bridge. At the double quick, sir.”

They wended their way up through the ruined bank, hearing robots say things like, “Put down your weapons and submit to authority,” and, “Do not be alarmed. Order will be restored soon. Please stand by,” along the way, and came to a hatch in the underside of the beached vessel.

The lowest below-deck level had an assortment of Protectrons, turrets, and one staircase up blocked by debris. A pair of stairs were farther down, like a cross, so you could climb up from either side, giving access to the next level up. That level’s stair pair up was blocked by crates for some reason. 

There were more Protectrons (“Warning. Overdue for maintenance.”) and turrets, and another pair of stairs at the other end was passable, but the ones on the deck above were not. For some reason.

Another set at the other end was passable and led to a hatch to the deck.

None of the robots up there (a Sentry Bot wearing a jaunty naval hat and with a minigun for one hand and a gatling laser for the other, a Mr Handy, and several Protectron) were willing to talk, as by the time they got up there an attack was in progress.

“A lawful use of deadly force is in progress,” a Protectron informed them. “Citizens are advised to clear the area. Do not attempt to flee. You will be identified and sanctioned. Continuing search for fugitive.”

Spotlights were sweeping the ground below and helpfully highlighted a raider to be taken out.

“Your cooperation is requested,” a Protectron said just before Sin blew the raider’s head out.

“With heavy circuit boards, I proclaim this victory,” the Sentry Bot … proclaimed … in a rather plummy voice.

Tsuna rolled on over to speak with it. Him. “Captain…”

“I’ll have none of your lip, Mr Navigator. Have the crow’s nest scan two points off the port bow. Jump to it.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Our soldier has arrived. Been too long since we’ve seen the Congressional Army.”

“…Quite a ship you have here.”

“Indeed! I am Captain Ironsides, commander of the USS Constitution. You visit this fine vessel in trying times. Becalmed these long years on her airy perch. Damn you, Weatherby Savings & Loan! I spit at you!”

“How did it even get up here?” Hayato asked.

“It does rather defy logic,” Valentine said.

“A harrowing tale, of that there can be no doubt. Or I should say, I assume it is,” Captain Ironsides replied. “I came upon her as she is. Atop this Sargasso Sea of rubble and misfortune.”

It begged the question of how a Sentry Bot managed to acquire a personality, and at that, of a naval captain. He could certainly imagine the ship had at one time been retired from service and used as part of a maritime museum—he would have to bone up on American history—but that did not explain how it got there, nor where Captain Ironsides had come from if he claimed to have found it already in position. He could believe that robots had been the “crew” of the ship as part of a museum, but…

“What vexes me most is my inability to assist in the war effort. My gun decks have naught but mole rats and ne’er-do-wells as targets. Enough pleasantries. The Constitution has systems that need repairs to carry out its mission.”

“What … war effort?”

“Against Communist China, of course! But if any Red Coats or Canadians sail nearby, I will give them a good thrashing, to be sure. To avenge the burning of our nation’s capital would be a sweet victory, indeed.”

“What is it you need?”

“Excellent! Consult with Bosun and Mr Navigator. They will relay your instructions. Dismissed. …Look lively, lads. Scavengers approach. Soldier, man the cannons. Kill them only as a last resort. A few warning shots usually suffice to scare that rabble off.”

‘Yeah, no,’ he thought as the scavver fired up on them.

“Hostile target detected,” a Protectron helpfully informed everyone in his role of Captain Obvious.

“The cannons are ready!” Ironsides proclaimed. “Fire at will.”

“I think I’ll stick to a gun,” he said. “Odds are, if I tried using one of those cannons, I’d somehow manage to blow this ship up, and me with it.”

It continued to be handy that the ship’s spotlights would point out where said scavvers were. A shot hit a mostly undamaged car down there and blew the power source, the resulting explosion of which took out three scavvers in one go.

Mr Navigator was the Mr Handy up there. “Ahoy, soldier. Scavenger threat eliminated. Damage assessment will commence after this unit has completed scheduled duties.”

He thought better of asking, but did it anyway. “Why did they attack?”

“Scavengers have attacked the ship seventeen times. Destroyed thirteen percent of ship’s systems. Stole five percent of ship’s store.”

“But if they’ve attacked you seventeen times, why don’t you fight back?”

“Logic error. Captain’s orders authorize scavenger termination only if necessary to preserve the ship. This unit suggests Captain’s core processes in need of extensive maintenance. Guidance system offline. Multiple errors diagnosed. First error: Guidance Chip stolen. This unit requires its return.”

“Those scavvers?”

“Guidance Chip is one entry on list of stolen items. Reclaim chip at scavenger’s forward recon station. Captain has approved a bounty for its return.” Its voice changed momentarily, as if playing a recording of Captain Ironsides. “Lethal force is prohibited unless absolutely necessary.”

It then returned to normal when Mr Navigator said, “Aft dinghy unlocked and available for your use. Sir.”

“Well, that beats going through the building and the ship every time,” Daemon said as they walked to the other end of the ship.

The dinghy was literally a dinghy, on a motorized system to raise and lower it, like a lift. Just down the street and to the left was a gathering of locals, presumably the “forward recon base” of the scavvers. A woman outside had a marker over her head, so Tsuna headed over.

“Don’t shoot!” she slurred. “Those assholes didn’t attack the ship on our orders. They weren’t trying to frag you anyhow. They just wanted to kill the frickin’ robots.”

Kami-sama, he wrote. She’s potted. Makes me want to shoot her on principle. Valentine gave him a sidelong look, so he added, Long story. Remind me later.

“So… Some of your guys almost got me killed.”

“We told those crazy assholes not to attack. It’s not our fault, all right. When they saw you waltz right into the Constitution, they just went ballistic. How did you get aboard, anyway? We thought you were gonna get cratered for sure.”

Tsuna smiled serenely. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? The ship’s crew wants their guidance chip back.”

Drunken-Sod placed her hands on her hips and frowned. “You know what he needs it for? His rockets. The huge god damn rockets on the side of his boat. He’s nuts.”

“Don’t care.”

“You seriously want to help that idiot bolts-for-brains? Screw that robot and come work with us. We’re going to scrap everything on that ship and make a fortune. We got a lot more friends nearby. It’s only a matter of time before we come out on top.”

“I’m not splitting my share with them!” Toothless-Scavver said.

“You holding out on us, Davies?” Drunken-Sod asked. “You got some magical way in there? This man’s got a free ticket aboard, so shut up.” She turned back to Tsuna and said. “Help us destroy that frickin’ tin can once and for all.”

“No deal. I’m with Ironsides.”

“You can keep your grubby mitts to yourselves,” Valentine added, standing there, a massive tricked-out gatling laser in his hands, very clearly a robot…

“Then screw you, asshole,” Drunken-Sod said. “You’re lucky we don’t gun you down.”

“You poor, foolish woman,” he muttered, shaking his head with mock sadness, then headed into the building behind her to retrieve the stolen chip.

They turned hostile the second he picked it up, as he expected, and were shortly gunned down. No corpse for Drunken-Sod, so she must have bailed. The crew was nice enough to send the dinghy down again once they got close enough, and they rode back up.

Tsuna installed the guidance chip into the Core Guidance System, helpfully denoted by a marker, and went to speak to Mr Navigator again.

“Ahoy, soldier. Chip recovered. Dispensing bounty. Diagnostics report one error remaining. Guidance Radar’s transmitter is non-functional. Requires replacement.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Diagnostic inconclusive. No functioning Mr Handys available for detailed analysis.”

The Mr Handy that greeted them originally must not have the right software installed.

“Acquire Poseidon Radar Transmitter at specified map coordinates. Further bounty will be dispensed upon completion. Sir.”

His map showed him it was nearest Irish Pride Industries Shipyard on his map, or BADTFL, so they shifted over and walked the rest of the way. There was nothing much there, just some radroaches and bloatflies, and the part was retrieved without trouble.

Until they exited, that is, as two mirelurks burst out of the ground out front and startled the hell out of everyone. Once they were dead and his heart rate was under control he noticed a Protectron patrolling around up the hill and went to investigate.

There were multiple military vehicles up there, a crashed plane—fighter jet?—and a power armor suit just waiting to be shifted away. Not wanting to deal with the half-finished pre-war community off to the side, teeming with super mutants, he nodded and shifted back with Valentine.

After riding the dinghy back up he paused to speak with Bosun, a Mr Handy, on the first level below deck. The poor robot only had its eye stalks. Its “arms” were missing.

“Your very presence does this humble unit a great honor,” it said with a peculiar accent. “My programming would find it amiss if I did not also interject. Long live the captain!”

“Do you often just … interject, as you put it?”

“Indeed, I do. I exclaim from exuberance. And not because I’ve been reprogrammed five times to whole-heartedly embrace these marvelous turns-of-phrase and anachronisms. My metal heart burns with a fierce love and affection for our captain. Huzzah!”

“Why were you reprogrammed? Was the captain involved?”

“I will confide this only as a cautionary tale. The captain requires all crew to speak in the proper idiom. ‘We are the inheritors of a sacred tradition.’ There was a time I thought he was … well, barmy. But with my new programming—I see his incalculable wisdom. Our last marine expedition valiantly returned with much needed supplies. Including replacement power cables, sir. Alas, with my severe lack of appendages, I find myself unequal to the task of repairing the cables myself.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“I feel my anxiety emulators lightening by the microsecond. Once you have resolved this matter, I beseech you to return to me to accept my undying gratitude.”

The programming these guys have is just a bit off.

The cables were in a nearby chest, so he grabbed them and wandered off to look for where they went. There were three rusty orange boxes with the lids open, a tangle of frayed wiring inside, where he could find to make repairs, though two of them were on the level below.

“Power courses through the Constitution’s veins again,” Bosun said once they returned. “Her systems, long starved, flicker to life. A hearty congratulation. Huzzah! However, this has brought to light further failures in our power grid. The power relay, to my shame, I previously complained about is fluctuatin’ wildly.”

“Why are you ashamed of that?”

“Bad for morale, sir. There were … dark times when I made all manner of baseless complaints against the captain, the manner in which this ship is run, and the plausibility of our sacred mission. But now I see the error of my ways. And with your help, perhaps I can atone. Power relay coils are a common enough part. Might I recommend checkin’ the local shopkeeps? Surely, they would be of some assistance. Fair winds and following seas.”

Tsuna followed the marker straight to the panel and jacked one in he had on hand after shutting the power down, and remembering to turn it back on after.

“Power flows firm and steady. I would applaud you, but, alas, I cannot due to my lack of clapping instruments. But huzzah, sir, huzzah.”

“You’re welcome, Bosun.”

“You are too kind. I require no further assistance. But our Mr Navigator is also beset by troubles. Scuttlebutt is our guidance system is on her last legs. If you have not already, speak to him. Fare thee well.”

Back on deck and over by Mr Navigator, he installed the Poseidon Radar Transmitter into the dish back there.

“Ahoy, soldier. Guidance system fully functioning. Bounty dispensed. It is required you commence dialog with the captain. Sir.”

“Enjoying yourself yet, brother?” he asked with quiet amusement.

Daemon gave him an indecipherable look.

“You’ve been of service to our noble vessel,” Captain Ironsides said. “Despite ample provocation, I had hoped the guidance chip could be recovered without violence to the scavengers. Even now they plot their retaliation.”

One might think the good captain advocated a lack of violence as a way to keep things going, so he could continue to give orders to liven up the boring stretches.

“I’d have spared them if I could have.”

“I have no doubt that they made a peaceful resolution impossible. But you did your duty, and did it well. I find I must reward your considerable efforts with a final labor. We stand but a hair’s breadth away from embarking on our sacred mission.”

“What’s the issue?”

“The ship requires turbopump bearings from a nearby factory. It will undoubtedly be a dangerous mission. But I have faith you will succeed.”

His map pointed him at the General Atomics Factory, which sounded familiar, but rang no particular bells. The job, as his quest log stated, was to acquire FLL3 Turbopump Bearings. The “nearby” factory was all the way down in South Boston, so they rode the dinghy down, shifted to the police station there, and walked the rest of the way.

Gwinnett Brewery was on the way, but he declined to stop in. Wasn’t in the mood for super mutants or mirelurks. A ruin to the left—a parking garage?—showed evidence of more super mutants, so they proceeded carefully past.

It wasn’t until they got inside that he remembered what the place was—or could be.

This place is part of the quest chain for Automatron, he wrote in private-mode. Thankfully, the number of hostile robots should be far less. I still expect hostiles, though.

It took getting through multiple maglock doors (and shooting at least a dozen whiny Mr Handys) to get to the required item. Tsuna was ambivalent about marking the place for salvage. On the one hand there was a ton of stuff they could recycle. On the other hand, it was involved in that DLC material and he had to work under the assumption it would be true here. Thus, too many changes might make things super weird down the line if he couldn’t avoid triggering Automatron.

They shifted right into the middle of another shootout, this time between the crew and raiders.

The turbopump bearings went into a machine back inside the Captain’s Quarters on the first level below deck.

“Trim the power on the starboard bow. Steady as she goes, Mr Navigator. Luck willing, at long last we’ll set sail. And our hero of the hour is to thank. You’ve earned a double share, sir. Well done.”

“Set sail?” he asked with deliberate cluelessness.

“On the eve of our voyage, the need for secrecy is long past. Our twin NX-42 rockets will alight and unmoor us from this dreaded Savings & Loan. The Constitution will launch into the heavens and after gently land in the ocean.”

‘But there’s a hole in the hull…’

“Then we take our rightful place as defenders of the Atlantic.”

“That’s quite a plan.”

“A thing of brilliance, is it not? Mr Navigator, put her through her paces. We need to—” An explosion caused him to cut off. “Those motherless curs. Prepare to broadside. Defend the Constitution until our last breath! Who goes there? Identify yourself.”

After a few dozen determined scavvers were put down (Drunken-Sod was one of them, and Valentine had a bit too much fun with his gatling laser) he heard, “With heavy circuit boards, I proclaim this victory. Gods be good, the scavenger assault has been broken. Not one of those scallywags stepped foot on our vessel. All hands, prepare ship for launch!”

“Congratulations, Captain Ironsides.”

“There is one thing…”

“Of course there is,” Sin muttered.

“We need power from the auxiliary generator to commence our voyage. I fear I must call upon you one last time.”

“Sure. Where is it?”

“On the top deck of the Royal Arms Apartments. Scavengers may yet remain, so have a care. Here is your amply deserved reward. God speed to you, sir.” Ironsides handed over a cannonball launcher called the Broadsider, which Tsuna tucked away by way of a shift.

He could see the wiring leading from the ship to where he needed to go, so he didn’t even need the helpful marker. There was a circuit breaker up there on a balcony, which he opened the lid for.

“Mr Navigator,” he heard from a nearby intercom speaker. “Slowly throttle the engines. …Keep idling those engines. …Ahoy, soldier. We’re ready for our auxiliary power.”

Tsuna flipped the switch.

“Power nominal,” Captain Ironsides said, sounding quite pleased. “Excellent. Commencing final countdown. …Three.”

He could see various robots on deck racing back and forth.

“…Two. …One. Mr Navigator, light the engines. Dreaded Savings & Loan, we shall be moored no longer. We are away!”

Tsuna watched in amusement as the three-master took off, breaking free of the bank, and nearly tipping the bow straight into the river. Then it corrected itself and surged upward, framing itself against the darkening sky, the clouds, and the moon.

“Two points to starboard. Yes, yes,” was heard when they had crossed the river. And then the USS Constitution crashed into another building and came to a rest in its new berth.

“We did it! Victory at last. Helm reports we are a quarter fathom closer to the Atlantic. By my calculations in a mere century we will take to the ocean. Well done.”

Tsuna looked back at his brother. “Shall we go visit them in their new location?” The ultimate irony is that he remembered the building it crashed into that time was the Weatherby Investment Trust.

Daemon rolled his eyes. “Why not.”

“You know, from this angle it doesn’t look half bad,” Valentine said.

They hopped the river, bypassed what he knew was the alley to Pickman’s Gallery, and headed around the corner. Down the street he saw the the lookout already patrolling, so he edged into a bus crashed into the building and out the open end. Two lift rides later and they were back on the USS Constitution.

“Our hero returns. What a glorious mission. True, the mission is not quite complete. But one cannot deny our progress.”

Mass Fusion was prominent in the background, and Greenetech Genetics could be seen in the space between the captain’s torso and left arm.

“I’m sure a good part of the Commonwealth could see your maiden voyage.”

“To be certain. And our rockets gave our enemies much to consider. I wager at this rate we should land in the ocean in one, perhaps, two more launches. My circuits tremble with excitement.”

“I’m glad I could help out.”

“You were instrumental, sir. A veritable godsend. In recognition of your courageous role in this, I hereby promote you to the role of Honorary Lieutenant. And being that I … well, cannot actually fit below decks, I hereby give you the captain’s quarters, as well. Three cheers for our new Lieutenant! Hip, hip … hooray! Hip, hip … hooray! Hip, hip … hooray!”

“I think I’ve had enough for one day,” Daemon muttered.

They were very sneaky when it came to giving Valentine Detective Agency a makeover. Ellie was asleep, so they shifted her and the bed she was on to storage, with a window open to keep an eye on her, then started ripping all sorts of stuff out.

Clones helped by fabricating pieces as they needed them, or shuffling the contents of filing cabinets to newly created ones. The broken floors were replaced with new ones, the concrete block walls covered in a veneer with a subtle, soothing pattern, new desks installed (to replace the two originally there), and chairs.

“Hey, Valentine. Do you even care if there are two beds in here?” he asked. “I mean, do you even use one for anything?”

“No, I don’t. I can think about nothing sitting down just as well. What were you thinking of doing?”

“If we fixed up the first floor and put in a nice bed and dresser for Ellie, then the ground floor back there, what little there is, could be a sitting room, a small kitchen… Or we throw a door up between the office area and the back, and turn it into a decent bathroom for her. I have no idea where the people of Diamond City are—well.”

“Ah, yeah,” Valentine said, looking mighty uncomfortable for a moment. “A bathroom would be nice. For Ellie. But…”

“We have ways,” Sin said.

When they were done—it took a good chunk of the overnight hours to finish up—Ellie was shifted back, to her new bed, and a note left on the main desk. Valentine would likely get a message on his Pip-Boy once Ellie woke up, freaked out and wondering what had happened.

The Harbormaster Hotel harbored a secret, as they found while wandering around looking for landmarks to have to travel by. Aside from being a goldmine of scrap, there was a hidden door (a bookshelf in the VIP Lounge) leading to a bank of lifts. Down those was a wide hallway leading to … a vault entrance, Vault 120.

“Vault-Tec sure was … prolific,” Hayato said. “Just how many whacked experiments could they come up with to torture people with? Societal preservation, my ass.”

“Well, it’s another vault to hook into the teleportation system,” Xeul said.

“And all the other stuff,” Chikusa said. “Though ensuring a steady supply of air down here…”

“As long as that hotel was owned by our people,” Ken said, “then it’d just have to funnel down from there. Heul might need to harmonize through the odd wall to see if they’ve already got pipes back there for it.”

“Water, at least, isn’t an issue, though even that could be funneled down from storage tanks on top of the hotel,” Daemon said. “Plus a clever system here to take in water from the ocean and filter the shit out of it.”

“Let’s shift in the usual here at the entrance,” he said, “then go report it. Once the techs have figured out how to rework the interior—and ensure those, er, skylights are safe and not going to spring a leak that’ll drown everyone—we can see about helping get it set up. Not sure which famiglia would want it, though. Maybe since it’s downtown, the Varia would prefer it?”

“There just really isn’t a place in this dimension to kick back and relax,” Sin said grumpily. “Even that rooftop garden idea was a sad stab at it. Suppose we could add a pleasure garden to one of the storages.”

“If we were really clever with runes it could be made to seem like an actual outdoor setting,” Daemon said.

“Excuse me.”

Tsuna looked over his shoulder to see Verde. “Hm?”

“I was wondering… What do you think of the idea of contact lenses?”

Samsara shot a collective “The hell are you talking about?” look at Verde.

“You use window panes,” Verde said patiently, “and that’s all very well when communicating with people in other locations. But could you do the same thing if you were wearing contact lenses? Perhaps not communicating, as the person or people on the other side would see next to nothing, but for other uses?”

Tsuna did a slow blink and furrowed his brow. “I’m not even sure what the hell someone standing nearby would see if we tested that. Would our eyes look like black pits? Are these something that could be fabricated? Would they be glass or gel? What about—”

“Even if the idea did pan out,” Daemon interrupted him, “we’d have to use windows if we wanted eyes on multiple things at once. In theory, using both lenses to focus on the same view would give us ‘normal vision’ for the other side, so to speak, but we’d be blind to what’s right in front of us.”

“What about our eye collection?” Ken asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what about some weird-ass thing where—uh, you know, there’s some eye surgeries that insert a lens. What part of those eyes is the real deal? Is it the lens or the whole thing?”

“The only one of us who could likely survive using any of the eyes is Heul, and that’s only because he has so much chakra the drain would probably be negligible,” Chikusa said.

“Eye collection?” Verde pointedly asked.

That necessitated a long explanation about some of their activities in the Naruto dimensions, and the abilities conferred by various dōjutsu. The one that interested Verde the most was the Byakugan, but even then he wasn’t particularly keen on any of them. Too cheaty, in his opinion, though he worded it a bit more scientifically and verbosely, especially a comparison of the Sharingan to neuromods. 

“In any case, I would imagine that gas permeable lenses would be less likely to cause issues long term, though I am uncertain as to whether you could use something that thin, of that material, in the same way as your panes.”

Samsara bounced a look around, weighing the basic idea, then Xeul said, “So make a single pair and I’ll give it a shot. The worst that happens is the attempt ruins my eyes, but since this body is materialized, I’d just make a new one. No harm, no foul.”

Verde nodded, already looking lost in thought. “I wonder if I could make bionic eyes that allowed the user to have a HUD,” he muttered as he walked away.

“So, that happened.”

“I suppose … it’s time to go see Garvey,” he said, the sound of various mafiosi practicing on the shooting range in the background.

“The Minutemen aren’t bad people,” Valentine said, then immediately amended that. “I mean, they weren’t. Not sure what’s left.”

“One man,” he replied. “Though there are more, many of them ended up sliding into raiding. One woman went walkabout or something. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with his goal of making things better for the people just trying to live what passes for normal around here. Homes, food, not being raided… I’m a huge fan of walls. And turrets. Eliminating defects with extreme prejudice…”

Valentine sighed slightly and offered his arm.

Garvey was doing about what Tsuna expected. He was patrolling around Sanctuary with his laser musket. Once spotted Garvey said, “I heard you helped out that settlement. They’ve decided to join the Minutemen. It’s great news! I knew you were the right person for the job.”

Various members of Samsara eyed the man oddly. It had been weeks since they had last seen the man. Perhaps Garvey had unrealistic or lowered expectations at that point as to how long it took to do anything?

“By the way, you should have one of these flare guns. You can use it to signal for help from any nearby Minutemen.”

Tsuna smiled awkwardly as he accepted both the gun and a box of flares.

So Garvey learned we—you, in his eyes—gave that help, probably from a passing trader, and paid whoever it was to send instructions regarding these back to Tenpines? Or something…?

Tsuna gave a slight shrug and a quirked brow in response.

“Not much use yet,” Garvey continued, “but once we have more allied settlements, you’ll have help whenever you need it.”

From people barely able to remember which way to point the gun, presumably, he snarked.

“I guess you know I’m one of the last of the Minutemen,” Garvey added, almost confidentially, “but I never really told you what happened to us.”

Daemon’s mouth twitched. Because Heul has the kind of face that screams, “I’m dying to hear your life story! Tell me, now, I beg you!”

“I figured you would tell me when you were ready.”

“Have you heard of the Quincy Massacre?”

Tsuna cocked his head to the side. He didn’t remember offhand anyone speaking about it, or any terminal entries, but they could have and he had already forgotten. The nice settlement where gourds were grown on top of the graves, he added in private-mode for his family. Is it a wonder they weren’t smited for blasphemy?

Say what now?

Nevertheless, he used his inside knowledge and replied, “Your group came from Quincy, right?” Seriously. In-game, anyway.

We didn’t bother checking the makeshift cemetery there, but now I’m curious.

“That’s right. Mama Murphy, Sturges, the Longs… They were all from Quincy. I was with Colonel Hollis’ group. A mercenary group called the Gunners was attacking Quincy; the people there called for the Minutemen to help.”

I’ll be damned. There really are crops atop those graves. How … sick? Twisted?

“We were the only ones that came. The other groups … they just turned their backs. On us, and the folks in Quincy. Only a few of us got out alive. Colonel Hollis was dead. So I ended up in charge of the survivors. We never found a safe place to settle. One disaster after another… You saw how it ended, in Concord.”

Tsuna trotted out a rather trite response of, “The Minutemen will survive, as long as you don’t give up.”

“I’m not about to give up.”

Didn’t you mention at one point this guy is suicidal?

“But I can’t protect the Commonwealth all by myself.”

Yes, but not actively so.

“Hell, I could barely protect these people. That’s why I’m talking to you. I can’t rebuild the Minutemen … but I think you can.”

“You do realize I don’t know the first thing about the Minutemen,” he pointed out.

“That doesn’t matter. The Minutemen of the last few years are gone, and nobody’s gonna miss them. We don’t need more petty politics, or squabbling over resources, or arguing over who has seniority. We need someone who can bring the whole Commonwealth together in a common cause. And I think you’ve got it in you to be that leader.”

Tsuna bit his lip to keep from smiling, or worse, laughing outright.

“With you at the helm,” Valentine said, “the Minutemen could be a big damn deal.”

“All right. But even I won’t be around forever.”

Garvey didn’t care about silly things like Tsuna potentially dying and leaving the Minutemen in the same mess. He was pumped if the fierceness of his smile meant anything. “Good. Good! Welcome aboard. I feel like this is a whole new start for the Minutemen, and the Commonwealth, too.”

Does this man not listen to the radio?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you all the way … General.”

Sin turned away, seemingly fascinated by the some minute detail in the distance.

“General, huh? That’s quite a promotion.”

“The leader of the Minutemen has always held the rank of General. Our last leader was General Becker. After he died back in ’82, nobody could agree on who should take his place.”

Blind lottery?

“The one good thing about being the last Minutemen is there’s no one to argue with me when I say you’re the new General. Now it’s your job to make it more than an empty title. So, I’ve got something a bit different for you. Scouts have found a promising spot for a new settlement. South of here, a place called Sunshine Tidings, on the lake. Once you clear it out, set up a radio beacon to let settlers know about it. Before you know it, we’ll have a thriving new farm there instead of wasteland. We’ll take back the Commonwealth, one piece at a time.” Garvey gave him a nod, then went off to patrol again.

As they started the walk to this “promising” location Hayato asked, “So explain this to me. How do settlers hear this beacon? Are they all carrying portable radios or something so they can periodically check random spots on the band to see if someone has miraculously set up a beacon to draw them in? And they don’t suspect it to be raiders looking for their next score and meal?”

Tsuna shrugged. He chose to believe it was a rhetorical question.

“Gonna have to set up one hell of a system,” Valentine said. “Once you disappear, well…”

“If we made sure each settlement was well stocked with weapons, ammunition—or the means to make it—and … supply lines?” Daemon said.

“It’s not like we can fold them into the famiglie,” Hayato said. “That wouldn’t be at all cool. But you have the plans for that station…”

Tsuna nodded. “The terminal software should show all settlements in the network, so to speak, and allow them to find the optimal routes for supply lines, so they can all support each other. Say, if one has a bad harvest. Though with what we plan to install, that shouldn’t be an issue. Or water. They should be mostly self-sufficient.”

“Those terminals must be routing through the satellites then,” Chikusa said.

As usual, Tsuna didn’t pretend to understand how any of it worked. It was ridiculous enough in the game version—hell, the terminal that came with the Vault-Tec DLC was insane, able to track anyone available as a companion for the player, like they’d all been secretly chipped or something.

Sunshine Tidings looked rather different once they got there. It was far more flat than what his memory showed of the game version for one thing. The robot was there, however, Professor Goodfeels, with his stoned-sounding “Far out!” and “Whoa, man!” and “Groovy!” He could only hope it would wander off after a while like in the game, else any settlers would likely shoot the thing for being so relentlessly repetitive. (And not secretly being a dealer for fine medicinal herbs.)

The terminal in the central warehouse had an entry on the robot.

> #### Allen,  
>    
>  We finally sprung a slave from the squares for our freedom farm co-op: a Mr Handy from the Nadaville suburbs. The tincan wigged out trying to go back to his slave owners, almost clued the fuzz onto us, so Johnny noodled it out and zonked his motivation protocols to "Just Be". Now we call him Professor Goodfeels, just digging the world as it be, owing nothing to nobody.  
>    
>  Careful with his other protocols, these cans knuckle creeps if they go ape.  
>    
>  —Jack

They cleared out the various cabins there—ghouls, radroaches—and set about figuring out a “floor plan” of the area based on the available flat land, after the existing cabins and the warehouse were broken down for scrap.

“How many homes, you think?” Ken asked.

“Twenty? It’s a decent size base, but… You can only support so many without them going mental and shooting each other,” Sin said.

“And it was a farming co-op,” Xeul said. “This place could probably help support other settlements by taking on a good part of the farming.”

“One on supply, a bar to give them a place to relax at night, maybe a merchant for wanderers to purchase food at, a few guards to be lookouts, and the rest as farmers,” Mukuro said. “Water won’t be an issue with our fabs.”

“And walls,” he said. “Nice thick walls, with lots of turrets on top. I won’t bother with a greenhouse style. The people of the Commonwealth have been dealing with radiation their entire lives. A decontamination room is a definite, though, in case they get sick from it. And if they get lucky, they’ll attract someone with medical knowledge.”

“Well, let’s figure out where the walls will go and take it from there,” Daemon said.

The end result was a walled community, the tops festooned with plenty of turrets to keep any nasties away. Ten apartments (two-bedroom, one-bath, with living space and built-in decontamination), hydroponic systems, water, and a bar/dining hall in the center. Well, and the logistics building. As there was a little space left over on each end wall they tucked the workbench, beacon, and a small manufactory for weapons and ammunition into one of them, with the water supply in the other. They also added a pen of sorts for any brahmin settlers brought along or captured, and a Mister Mechanic pod for settlement repairs.

“I fully expect Garvey to hand over another task once we go back, so let’s bypass that for the moment,” he said. “I can think of a number of places we could set up as settlements, so let’s get the jump on that. When we do return to Sanctuary, we’ll have more to report than just this place.”

“We could probably do Jamaica Plains,” Xeul said. “That was one of the stops on the subway, and the place looked deserted but for ghouls. Not so sure about the billboard proclaiming the Jamaica Plains treasures, though…”

Tsuna snorted. “Probably some silly time capsule that’s ultimately meaningless.”

A quick shift later and they were hunting ghouls, finding dead raiders who had come seeking the fabled treasure (and apparently failed hard at that thing called combat to have succumbed to said ghouls), and the vault down under the mayor’s office. The treasures were a joke, almost condescendingly so, but they weren’t the real treasure. Another vault entrance was.

“Kami-sama,” he breathed. “How many of the fuckers are there in the Commonwealth?” And at that, he knew of at least one more, the one connected to Cait’s personal quest. Filled with Gunners, if he remembered right. And, of course, Vault 88, with Barstow and her crazy experiments. He should send someone over to see about acquiring the place.

“Right, so, we clean it out, hook it up…” Mukuro looked at the vault entrance and sighed.

“As annoying as it is right this second,” Ken said, “it’s another radiation free place for the famiglie to hold.”

“It also means Jamaica Plains is off the list for a Minutemen settlement,” he said. “It’s fine. There are plenty more places we can build at.”

“Really?” Yuni said during a hastily-assembled conference of the leaders. “Another one?”

“Yeah, so you lot can figure out who gets which. If nothing else, it means you all won’t be so damn cramped soon, but still able to easily interface and share supplies. For the time being we’ve set a keep-away on the door into the basement. Can always put in a keycard system or something triggered by authorized Pip-Boys. Something. We’ve already put in the usual, so it’s on the teleportation network. You guys can send over a tech contingent, guards…”

“So we have, uh…” Colonnello frowned for a moment.

Lal sighed. “Vault 121, the main vault. Vault 75, the warehouse. Vault 113, under Fairline. Vault 111, currently untouched. Vault 120, via the Harbormaster Hotel, currently in the possession of the Varia and the remnants of CEDEF. Vault 117, this new one, at Jamaica Plains.”

“I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if we found more,” Tsuna said with a roll of his eyes. “There is the one still functioning vault, but I didn’t catch the number. Vault 114 is under Park Street Station, but that’s Skinny Malone’s territory. Unless he keels over, it’s off limits.”

“It means we have 121, 113, and 117 to apportion,” Dino said. “One short, basically.”

“We could take 111,” Enma said. “We’re not exactly a huge family, and with the Fabricators, it shouldn’t be needed for a manufactory.”

“It’s a thought,” he said vaguely. Obtaining Vault 88 was something they should do sooner rather than later. “I have a … feeling. There’s … something. Samsara will hunt that rabbit down first. Vault 111 would be fine, and can be used no problem after ripping the guts out and rebuilding. I just don’t like that it’s so close to Garvey. I have the strong feeling he would flip a table if he learned exactly what we all are, maybe go so far as to see us as a different kind of raider. Let us track down this feeling first. So hold that thought. Once I know what it is my intuition is pushing at, we can sit back down and discuss things. Sound okay?”

The Skies nodded (and for the purposes of categorization, he considered Enma a Sky), so they broke up for the time being.

“We need to return to Jamaica Plains,” he said. “Head south from there.”

Quincy Quarry was west and a bit north of the ruins of Quincy itself, filled with non-feral ghoul raiders. There were barrels of nuclear waste all over the place, and enough had been spilled to form bubbling pools of it at the bottom of the excavation.

“Nice place,” Valentine said dryly. “Must be enchanting in the spring.”

“If this nudge pans out, it’ll mean a whole of lot of clean-up,” Daemon said. “Then again, plenty of material for fabricating fusion cores and microfusion cells.”

Tucked away cleverly in one of the sides was an opening, a tiny hallway of marble, almost, leading to stairs that went down. Three more raiders were down there, two relaxing in a makeshift sitting room, the third sleeping in a likewise makeshift bedroom, and were quickly snuffed.

Also down there was a break in the marble leading to a dirt tunnel, which in turn led to yet another vault. It seemed like a very odd place for a vault entrance, a quarry. If the topside workers cut through the wrong way, they’d cut straight into the vault itself.

A handful more raiders were busy attempting to break through the vault door (one of whom was using a screwdriver on the remote access console), and speakers broadcast a woman’s voice. “Cease at once! The vault doors were meant to withstand a direct nuclear strike. Your attempts to breach this facility are laughable. Leave at once or there will be consequences. Whoever you are, stop! Vault-Tec will not forgive this vandalism.”

“Anyone bothered to tell this lady there is no more Vault-Tec?” Sin muttered. “Hopefully.”

Samsara made short work of them, then Tsuna used his Pip-Boy to open the door.

“Vault door cycling sequence initiated,” announced a hollow voice. “Please stand back.”

“What?” came that woman’s voice again. “You have a Pip-Boy? Wait. Are you Vault-Tec? Have you finally come to save me?”

“How long has she been in there?” Xeul wondered.

She’s been there the whole time, he wrote in private mode. Everyone inside was either killed or ghoulified, but she’s the only one who kept her mind.

“Please, I am trapped behind a mountain of rubble. The key to freeing me is getting the workshop operational. First, lift the security lockdown and get to the reactor room.”

Even in the entrance area there were ghouls. He had to assume that when the warning came, those inside did not dare emerge. How they became ghouls, however… Was the door seal faulty? He would have to instruct whatever crew came to investigate and work up a plan was aware of the possibility and would triple-check the vault door for any irregularities.

“It’s been hard to maintain the faith,” the woman continued. “So many years stranded here. But you can assure Dr Braun, if he’s even still around, that I have used the time productively.”

Was she aware of Braun’s heinous plans for the vault he commanded? Or did she think her idol had become ghoulified as she’d been, and also kept his mind?

“The great work is ready to begin.”

He rolled his eyes and headed for Security, where a terminal should be present to lift the lockdown. There was, with another ghoul hiding around the corner. As Sin took care of fiddling with that, Tsuna wondered how things translated here. Barstow specifically mentioned the workshop, but…

Maybe it was something that controlled all the machinery he knew to be behind the cave-in? Like a drone controller hub? Sort of?

“Good, good. Vault-Tec workshops require their control board to function. During emergencies, the procedure is to store it in the reactor room. Look in there and you should find it.”

“If we were Vault-Tec, wouldn’t we already know this shit?” Ken asked.

The reactor room, the door of which was now open due to lifting the lockdown, held a burly ghoul. He was carrying the control board—and a baby rattle, for some reason. A U-shaped grouping of consoles were at the center, a massive Vault-Tec generator at the back, and a switch-style beacon. Lockers, shelves with decaying boxes filled with papers, and cleaning supplies rounded out the room’s contents.

Just outside, up the stairs, and to the left, in an alcove, was the workshop. Hayato fit the control board into place, for what good it would do. If it did control those forklifts and whatnot, it really was useless, because all of it would be scrap shortly. Maybe it interfaced with the consoles in the reactor room?

He shrugged and continued around the corner to the cave-in. It covered a ramp leading downward. Samsara made short work of that, too, shifting all the debris to storage where it could be recycled.

“You aren’t what I was expecting,” the woman said. “You do have a Pip-Boy. You’re from a vault. But you’re clearly not with Vault-Tec. What are you doing here? Why did you help me?”

“Actually,” he said, pasting a plastic smile into place. “I’m here to offer you the bargain of a lifetime. What would you say to a vintage set of encyclopedias? Act now.”

He hadn’t realized a ghoul’s face could be that expressive. The confusion was wonderful. “An encyclopedia…? I—oh, humor,” she said sourly. “I’ve been on my own so long. Almost didn’t recognize … that. My name is Valery Barstow and I was to be the Overseer of this vault. But please, follow me. I have a proposal for you.”

She turned and headed toward a small camper. A desk was outside it, with a typewriter perched on top, along with a pitcher, glass, and cannister of purified water. Behind the desk, propped against the wall, was a framed blueprint for the vault’s construction survey.

“It’s been a hard two hundred years. I was giving a tour of what was to be my pride and joy. My vault. Then the earthquakes. Sirens. Many died. Perhaps they were lucky… The radiation… Somehow, I was spared. But… The construction crew didn’t fare as well as me. They’ve never done anything hostile toward me, though. It’s probably best if you … put them out of their misery.”

A short pause ensued while the ferals were put down, then they returned to Barstow.

“I tried digging my way to the entrance,” she said. “With that control board, I could’ve changed everything. But there was simply too much for the equipment to handle.”

Tsuna’s brow went up. More like she did not have the first clue how to use any of that machinery, or all of it really did depend on the control board being in place to run at all.

“But my work, my work kept me going. Here,” she said, handing over a folder. “Among these papers is my life’s work. I’d like to share it with you. Dr Braun tasked me with something vital. A series of prototypes and their related … well, experiments, that could redefine society. But, as you can see, things did not go according to plan.”

He shuffled through the papers. Four experiments were outlined.

The Power Cycle 1000 Prototype had three parameters which could be chosen. One would administer shocks to the user as incentive to keep peddling, and would generate energy for the vault, at the risk of killing said user. The second would use narcotics to keep them at it, for less energy, but also with the risk of death. The third option was benign, using pleasant scents to make the exercise (an utter waste of time in Barstow’s opinion), well, pleasant.

The Soda Fountain was more insidious. It required a package from HalluciGen, which did not bode well. Chemicals were to be used in the production of soda and served via the fountain. The first was a mood-enhancer, using a psychoactive compound. The second was an appetite suppressor and carried a risk of death due to subjects ingesting a quarter or less of normal rations per day. The third was just normal, caffeinated soda, with no associated risks.

The Phoroptor also had three parameters. One, subliminal messaging, to alter the subjects’ views on the vault, Vault-Tec, and the Overseer, using microflash images. Two, a small MRI in the machine’s makeup that could essentially read the subject’s mind and show an actual picture of what they were thinking. Three, improved eye care.

And finally, the Slot Machine, with three parameters. One, called Indentured Servitude, was intended to lure a subject in with wins to get them hooked, then drain them of all their money, as revenue for the vault. And, incidentally, gain them an indentured servant (to do the scutwork, presumably).

Two, called Customer Profiling, was intended to identify a subject’s behavior (patterns?) and track those with degenerate behavior. How that could be figured out by a slot machine was beyond Tsuna’s understanding. Three was called Lost Revenue and was intended as something closer to a control, where the subject won more often than they lost, and would be a major loss over time for the vault in terms of revenue.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said after his family and Valentine had all perused the pages. “You want me to lure people into this vault, run dangerous and potentially fatal experiments on them, and smile while I do it? You know what, lady? You have two choices. Either you pack up your things and bail, or I shoot you in the head until you die.”

She blinked at him a few times. “I—I understand. I will leave. Just … let me gather my things and I will go.”

Samsara kept a close eye on her as she moped into the camper and packed a few things, then shuffled off up the ramp toward the exit. He considered directing her to Vault 114 and Skinny Malone, but thought better of it. Those two might get along like a house on fire and that would be terrible. Xeul shadowed her, to make certain she actually left.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s put up some protections, then shift in the usual. Then we report it to the council.”

“Vault 88 is quite large,” he said. “Aside from the main area, which is very similar to Vault 113’s, there are additional areas, still basic caverns and quite deadly—or were until we cleaned out all the uranium and hostiles. The exterior, the quarry, was also cleared of all nuclear material. It’s not far from Quincy, which means the possibility of more Gunners rolling into town, but far enough that those guys shouldn’t be a problem. Not with the usual protections, anyway.

“Overall, it’s a bit spread out, with plenty of space for use, though some of it is rather oddly shaped. The techs would have to figure out the best way to make use of it all. There were tunnels leading off in two directions, but unfinished. Possibly for expansion, but considering the majority of the place doesn’t even have smoothed walls…

“Either way, I don’t see why it can’t be used as a base. The quarry would have to be fortified, but that space, too, could be used. Throw up the usual and there’s a fair amount of space topside to get some sun, maybe have some livestock—once some soil is added, anyway, and grass or something.”

“Shimon won’t stay small for long,” Yuni said to Enma, “not if you intend to survive as a family. That means all of us will be … breeding … with members of other families. We have over three thousand people between us. That’s enough for diversity.”

“The vaults were rated for no more than a thousand each,” Tsuna said, “but we can do better than that with careful excavation, plus use the space topside.”

“Even so,” Enma said, “right now I think Shimon should take the smallest option. We have a lot further to go to gain comparable numbers.”

“Then I’d say Vault 117. It could be expanded, but right now it’s not necessary. So 88, 113, and 121 can go to Giglio Nero, Gesso, and Cavallone. If you folks would like 111 for something, such as a communal training vault, say so, and we’ll go set up the usual so the techs can roll in and make plans. Because when, not if, I die a hilariously stupid death, you lot’ll be transporting Recyclers and Fabricators the hard way.”

“I think to avoid any arguments,” Dino said, “we should just put the three vault numbers into a hat, the three names into another hat, and let Heul do the draws. With his intuition…”

He nodded after a moment, showing he had no issues with that.

Giglio Nero ended up at 113, Gesso at 88, and Cavallone at 121. They voted to convert 111 to a communal training facility, so Samsara headed out to handle the initial prep, reported in briefly, then went off to continue their Minutemen activities.

Croup Manor, Egret Tours Marina, Kingsport Lighthouse, Murkwater, Outpost Zimonja, Starlight, and Taffington Boathouse were all cleared, scrapped, and rebuilt. They also somehow ended up helping Country Crossing and Finch Farm.

Back at Sanctuary they tracked Garvey down so Tsuna could report in, though why “The General” was the one doing all the damn work… Somehow, Tsuna did not remember Garvey being “by his side” all the way.

“So, aside from Sunshine Tidings…” He gave a brief report on all the other settlements either built or helped. “Should be a good start,” he finished.

“That’s great news,” Garvey said. “Once folks have some place to call their own, they’ll be willing to help defend it.”

‘Not that they should need to considering just how many turrets we placed at each location.’

“I have something else for you to look into. With that many settlements we’ve gotten big enough that we’ll have trouble communicating with all of them,” Garvey said. “It’s a good problem to have. And I have a solution. I think it’s time to retake the Castle. It used to be the Minutemen HQ, way before my time. Well-fortified, centrally located, and most important—it has a powerful radio transmitter we can use to broadcast to the whole Commonwealth.”

How Fort Independence is centrally located is beyond me.

“So what happened to the place if it was fortified so well?”

“This was long before I joined up, but the story I heard was that some kind of monster came out of the sea and destroyed the fort. A lot of the leaders were killed in that battle, and I guess nobody ever felt it was worth the risk to try to retake it. I’ve always wondered if losing the radio station was the beginning of all our later problems. So, should I have an assault force assemble near the Castle?”

“Sure. Let’s do this.”

“We’ll do some recon and meet you outside the Castle. See you there.” Garvey hopped up from his chair and took off. Where he planned to get the people to make up a “we” he wasn’t sure. There were still just the original five in Sanctuary, as he had not bothered to set up a beacon of any kind. Had Garvey been hiding them in his pocket for just the right opportunity? Or had he been in communication with Tenpines via the supply line and made arrangements with the settlers there, old and new?

He did notice, on the way to a spot safe to shift from, that the Logistics Station he had built what felt like forever ago had gained a second floor. That should mean settlers on scrapping runs could use beacons, which should be useful to them.


	12. λ34: 12: Commonwealth

## λ34  
12: Commonwealth  
“Nothing a little lemon juice and some steel wool won’t fix.”

Once out of sight they shifted to storage and Tsuna and Sin set about making a meal.

“I have a window on the guy,” Daemon said.

“Thank you. Then we’ll know when we need to join them.”

“What are we having?” Ken asked curiously.

“Butter chicken.”

Ken hummed happily and set about helping. He was nice that way.

They played games until Garvey and his bunch arrived at the Castle and, as it was getting dark, decided to turn in for the night. Surely they could have done their recon and gotten some rest themselves by morning.

When it was time they shifted over to the subway station near the Castle, then hung a left, trundled through a playground of rust, over to a half-destroyed diner, where Garvey was lurking.

“Everyone’s here, General,” Garvey said on seeing him. “There it is. Pretty impressive, huh? Its real name is Fort Independence, but the Minutemen always just called it the Castle. Now you can see why I wanted to take it back.”

He nodded. “For six hundred years old, it’s not in terrible shape.”

“That’s right. They don’t make ’em like they used to. We take this place back? People will know we mean business. Our primary objective is to clear the courtyard. That’s where we should see the most opposition.”

_Should_ see? Didn’t they get any recon done?

“We’ve got that entrance here on this side, but if we circle around south, we could also reach the main gate.”

“What are we waitin’ for?” one of the recon team said impatiently. “Let’s just get in there and shoot those lobsters!”

The woman said, “No. If we split up, we can flank ’em from both sides. It’ll be like shootin’ fish in a barrel.”

Recon-Three offered, “Why not let them come to us? We set up a firing line on this side, and you can draw them out.”

Because clearly, your life is least at risk, somehow, with this plan.

“Well, General, what do you think?” Garvey asked.

“Split and hit them from both sides. Send up a flare once you’re in position on the far side, and we can start the attack.”

“Okay. We’ll split up, and you can join whichever side you think needs the extra support. All right, people, you heard the general. Let’s move out. Try not to draw their attention until we’re in position.”

Garvey and two of them exited through the shattered wall, while the last exited through the other door in the little diner. Recon-One and Recon-Two headed for the near entrance, while Garvey and Recon-Three headed for the main gate. Half of Samsara skulked along behind Garvey, just to even the numbers.

Tsuna headed for the nearest entrance, but he hung back and waited, keeping an eye on Garvey’s progress with a window. There were still wooden guard posts scattered around, at ground level outside, and up on the wall. He was mildly surprised they weren’t showing more rot.

As soon as Garvey was hovering near the main gate he started forward toward the entrance, his bunch trailing behind him.

“When the Minutemen lost this place,” Valentine said quietly, “the Commonwealth knew they were done.”

From the entrance, where he crouched down, he could see a whole lot of mirelurk nests, and the characteristic humps of “earth” which denoted resting ’lurks. There were active ones up on the wall he could see across the way, and knew there were more hidden up there, with nests. At the center of the courtyard was the radio tower, with cables leading off the top to various points on the walls, to stabilize it, and one of the mesh catwalks on the interior walls was missing the center section.

Directly across was a stairway up, from either side, and doorways and windows studded the walls. The whole place was just a hollow, pentagonal bastion fort, with the walls themselves being mostly hollow, and rooms at each of the points, and stairways leading up from various spots to the tops of those points.

A flare shot up, blossoming a pinkish light.

“Okay, folks, shooting gallery’s open,” he said.

Along the way he grabbed any unburst eggs, so the Minutemen who’d be stationed there could make omelets, but stopped when the world shook and he heard, “What was that!?” shouted from Garvey’s mouth. A pissed-off queen had emerged from the sea, he knew, and that was his cue to get up top.

The queen was over near the main gate, so he dodged baby mirelurks bursting out of eggs and headed that way for a better angle and less distance for bullets to travel. She went down in a heap against the wall after concentrated fire. From there it was a matter of clearing the last of the interior nests. If nothing else, these guys would have a starting amount of food from all the dead beasties.

“We did it!” Recon-One shouted. “Wait till they hear about this.”

It wasn’t until the last of the eggs had been dealt with that he heard Garvey say, “All right. Good work, people. But we aren’t done yet. The general and I are gonna have a look at the radio to see what shape it’s in. The rest of you, clear out any remaining mirelurks or eggs you find.”

Riiight.

“Let’s go see if there’s anything left of the old transmitter,” Garvey said, having spotted him. That was code for, “Magically make a generator appear to power up all these lights, the water purifier out back, and the radio transmitter. And while you’re at it, a whole bunch of turrets would be awesome, and either a supply line or a garden.”

There were already a handful of beds, so he needn’t worry about that aspect of things initially. Tsuna headed for the General’s quarters, shifted out the rubble from the stairway that led down into the under-tunnels, then located the window that showed the purifier. A generator was shifted in, wired up, and a few posts were added to the courtyard to carry the line over.

The switch for the transmitter was flipped, and the switchbox for the speakers turned off. He did not need to hear Radio Freedom, with it’s Revolutionary War music blaring, right there in person. It was already too much to handle listening to it on his Pip-Boy radio.

“Wow!” Garvey said. “We really did it! I’ve been watchin’ the Minutemen fall to pieces for so long, I just… This is really something. Now we’ve got to pay off on what we’ve started. Bring the whole Commonwealth together, and make it last this time.”

You got no idea, my friend.

“So, you know… Back to business. But with Radio Freedom up and running, we can broadcast alerts to you anywhere, any time. Which reminds me, I’ve got another trouble spot for you to check out. I’ve gotten word about a settlement that’s being threatened by raiders. I’ll show you on your map. Go find out what they need. We could use more settlements supporting our cause.”

“Nordhagen, huh?” he muttered. “We flew over that, before.”

“I need to get back to Sanctuary,” Garvey said as he started to walk away. “These guys here have things well in hand.”

“So what’s with that massive door?” Hayato asked.

Tsuna shrugged for the benefit of the Recon bunch, but wrote in private mode, Armory. It’ll come up in a bit, once Ronnie Shaw hears of this victory and crawls out of the woodwork. “Let’s go see what Nordhagen is being threatened by.”

Nordhagen was sort of northeast of the airport, sort of southeast of Easy City Downs, on the inlet side of a bar of land that led down to Fort Strong (which looked a lot smaller than he remembered and therefore not worth bothering with), so it was a simple shift once they were out of sight and short walk to get there.

A simple shack with three stained mattresses made for a home for a couple and their child. The woman said, “You look tired,” as they approached, then added, “You Minutemen? We could really use your help.”

“Yes. What’s the issue?”

“There’s a group of raiders that won’t leave us alone. Stealing our food and supplies. Threatening us if we can’t give them what they want. They seem to be coming from Revere Beach Station. There’s just the three of us, and with my boy… We can’t stand up for ourselves, not like this.”

“We’ll handle it.”

“I hope so,” she said fervently.

Tsuna could already imagine the massive wall he planned to erect along the road’s edge, and all those lovely turrets he would place. Revere Beach Station was northeast, across the bridge spanning the inlet between Nordhagen and Easy City Downs, and almost due north from the racetrack. It was short enough that they walked, Libertalia off to the right once they had crossed over and turned north.

The raiders of Revere Beach Station, one of whom was in power armor, had a serious thing for collecting book tokens. The ones inside the station were no more of a challenge to deal with. The place was big enough that it could be part of the famiglie’s holdings, though, should they choose to annex the complex.

A brisk jog and they were back at Nordhagen to report their success. Those two decided to join the Minutemen, which meant Samsara was free to at least give these people some protection against predation. Well, after the three settlers were asleep, anyway, and kept that way so the floodlights they dropped didn’t disturb them. They would wake up confused, but protected.

“Time for some food, then sleep,” he declared, then shifted himself and Valentine to the decontamination room in storage.

“What are the odds,” Sin asked with puppy eyes, “of a coffee cake sometime soon?”

“Sure. And I might make Bakewell tarts soon. I’ve had a hankering for those lingering at the edges. Might have to bother Bael for supplies, since I’m not sure I have everything I’d need.”

“You got on well enough with Skull and Fon in λ9, but yes, Bael might be the better choice. Though you’d have to remember to cook enough to share with him.”

“Otherwise he’d do something awful.” He sighed. “In any case, I’ll not be checking in with Garvey on Nordhagen. I imagine Radio Freedom has likely gotten word already and done a broadcast—though we could drop a note there to be nice—so he’ll know.”

“If we ever get stuck in this world again,” Ken said, “I think we should level Sanctuary and build it right before we deal with that lot. Could always use clones to speed things up considerably. And I probably wouldn’t give them a Recycler and Fabricator.”

He shook his head. “No, that was probably not the best choice. Should have set up a small manufactory, like we did at Sunshine Tidings, just a bit bigger. I’ll leave them, since my intuition isn’t objecting, but I most likely wouldn’t do it a second time. Schatz, how does a chocolate chip, sour cream coffee cake sound?”

Sin hummed happily. “That one with the cinnamon?”

“Yep.”

“Awesome, to use your favorite word,” Sin said, then leaned in to give him a kiss.

At breakfast the next morning he suddenly paused, hashi halfway to his mouth, then quickly mouthed the food and set his hashi on their rest. He pulled up the Radio tab on his Pip-Boy and tuned into Radio Freedom.

“This is Radio Freedom, broadcasting all day, all across the Commonwealth! This message is for the General, if you’re listening. We have a … situation at the Castle. Nothing’s happening—what the!? _Hey_! You can’t do that!”

“All right, listen up, ‘General’.’ Get your heinie back here pronto. This is Ronnie Shaw. You’ve never heard of me, but you’ll want to talk to me. …All right, don’t get your panties in a bunch! You can have your precious mic back.”

“Um… Okay… Sorry about that folks! This is Radio Freedom, the voice of the Minutemen! All quiet, which is how we like it!”

He turned the radio off quickly, then resumed eating.

“I suppose we’ll be stopping by, then,” Hayato said. “Some chick has the balls to coopt the radio, after all…”

He hummed.

They shifted over to the subway entrance and made their way to the Castle from there. Through the main entrance he could see a stranger roaming around, laser musket at the ready. She was dressed in camo fatigues and a military-style beret.

“Are you Ronnie Shaw?” he asked.

“There you are. Finally,” she said. She looked to be in her forties, could be sixties, but it was difficult to tell sometimes with how the environment aged people. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

“Yes, well, traveling does take time. What did you want to speak about?”

“Yes, I’m Ronnie Shaw. Commonwealth Minutemen. At least I was, back before Joe Becker got himself killed and the idjits took over.”

Dear Kami, she sounds like that Bobby person.

So, what, she bailed when it started going to shit and only came back due to the radio being back up?

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Nice to know there are other Minutemen out there, ones with experience.”

“Eh. Well, you’re right about that. I feel like some of these you’ve got may still need their diapers changed.”

Tsuna smiled serenely. He had never quite liked her in the game, and this one was not shaping up much better. “Possibly. Now, about why you wanted this meeting?”

“Heard you were trying to get the Minutemen back on their feet. Thought I’d come see the new general for myself. So what’s your story? What makes you think anybody even wants the Minutemen back?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe all those people who now have safe places to live, and food, and water. We’ve been helping people. Can you say the same?”

“Don’t give me any attitude, boy. I’ve been a Minuteman longer than you’ve been alive.”

Urge to kill, rising.

“But, I’ve heard some good things about what you’ve been doin’. Wouldn’t be here otherwise. Now that I’m here, I can see you really need my help.”

“And what help is that, aside from someone who knows which end of the gun to hold?”

Shaw snorted. “Yeah, you’re not kiddin’. But I had somethin’ more specific in mind. I’m probably the only one who still remembers this, but the Castle’s armory was located in the west bastion. All of our best equipment was stored in there. Weapons, ammo, schematics, you name it. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She walked the short distance to that large retractable metal panel covering what anyone with sense would assume was a door. The barred window just to the right showing a flag on the opposite interior wall was a huge clue, as was the room back there in the point that could just barely be seen, with various items just waiting to be plundered.

Shaw hummed. “Good. Looks like it might still be intact. Door’s still sealed… Bastion hasn’t collapsed. Trick now is finding a way in.”

“Speaking of which,” Sin said helpfully, “we never did check out that stair down, did we? Got distracted by a settlement needing help.”

“Northeast bastion?” Shaw said. “Let’s go take a look.”

He noted on the way that the Minutemen stationed at the Castle had cleaned up all evidence that the place had once been a mirelurk breeding ground.

“This was the General’s quarters,” Shaw said once they were in that point. “Used to be a tunnel leading from here to the armory. And I see you’ve already cleared it out. Good job. Let’s get down there and see if there’s still a way through.”

As they passed through the door he wrote in private mode, Expect mines down here. Gas. A Sentry Bot that won’t be passive.

“Pretty dark down here. We’d better watch our step,” Shaw said.

In addition to the things Tsuna expected, there were supplies. Cement, cannon balls, various chems and canned food, along with various fungi, weapons, and ammunition. His family was busy scouting the ground looking for mines to disarm, and Tsuna nabbed a fusion core out a generator stashed down there. Why the thing hadn’t been hooked up to the lights upstairs…

“Movement detected,” said a mechanical voice.

He edged around the corner to see the Sentry Bot down at the end, and beds with lockers nearer to him.

“Sentry Bot designation SARGE powering up.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Shaw said. “I would’ve never guessed the Sarge would still be down here. Don’t worry, it’s one of ours.”

He snorted when the robot opened fire on them all.

“Initiating defensive protocols,” it said.

It “died”, of course. The explosion was deafening, and quite hot in such confined quarters.

“Too bad Sarge went haywire,” Shaw said, fresh smudges adorning her face. “He’s been guarding the Castle since … forever, far as I know.”

At the far end, where Sarge had been waiting, was a desk, a terminal, and a maglock door. Shaw limped over (she’d been clipped by the blast) and got busy with the terminal.

“Let’s see, I used to know this password,” she muttered. “ ‘One if by land’… No, that’s not it. ‘For the Commonwealth’… Goldurnit. It’s been a long time… ‘United we stand’…”

The door swung open.

“Yeah, that was it.”

Inside was another desk, terminal, case of Amontillado wine, a surprisingly well-preserved corpse, and a further homage to the cask of amontillado of a partly destroyed wall with a skeleton visible behind, shackled to the wall.

“That explains all the landmines,” Shaw said. “This is, well … was, General McGann. He had your job back when I first joined up. Must’ve gotten trapped down here when that sea beast attacked the Castle. He did manage to keep the armory secure, I’ll give him that much. I guess the uniform is yours now, if you want it. This old geezer doesn’t need it any more. Rest in peace, General. Your fight is done and the Minutemen live on.” Shaw paused for a moment of respect, then continued, “No point in getting all sentimental about something that happened forty years ago. Come on, we’re almost through.”

Through the door at the end was stairs leading up. The other side of that metal panel was visible on the other side of an archway, and a big red button was there to the left.

“Okay. Here we are. Let’s see if this still opens from here.” She hit the button and watched as the plate swung up out of the way. “There we go. Told you I’d get us in here.”

We could have done this ourselves?

He nodded, as a response to both.

“Now let’s see what kinds of goodies are left.” Shaw headed off to the left and through a set of doors.

Tsuna was just surprised that there were no lights in there. The armory had Tesla mines, turrets, laser muskets, various other goodies…

“Excellent. The armory’s still intact. And the cream of the crop. Schematics for building artillery.”

He yanked a fatman off a shelf so that none of the people stationed there would use the damn thing. “Artillery would be pretty sweet.”

“We used to rain down fire on deathclaws and super mutants alike,” Shaw said a bit nostalgically. “It was a glorious thing. All right, grab that schematic and let’s get goin’. Don’t forget to grab some smoke grenades, too.”

Run interference for me for a few moments? he wrote in private mode. I need to go see Verde about this schematic.

Of course, darling.

He hung back and swapped with a combo-clone, then used his time turner to go back so that Verde could translate the schematic into something he could use with the Fabricator, then let himself catch up, switch back, and rejoin the party.

“Looks like you’ve got everything we need,” Shaw said. “Soon as you get some artillery built, we’ll do a test fire to calibrate it.”

He nodded and trundled off up the stairs to the top of the wall, and over to one of the bastions. They each had a recessed area, perfect for placing artillery. A bit of Mist took care of anyone there wondering too hard about how he had produced said artillery out of thin air, and then he flagged down the first Minuteman he saw to man the thing.

“Ah. Gosh darn, it’s good to see artillery here again,” Shaw said when he tracked her down again. “So here’s the thing about the big guns. They can’t fire at anything too close, but their range is impressive.” She started walking, so he followed. “That’s what the smoke grenades are for,” she said, exiting through the side entrance. “Toss one of those at the bad guys. If we have artillery in range, we’ll confirm over the radio and target our fire on your smoke. But first, we better do a test fire. Make sure we’re hitting what we’re aiming at.

“See that little building over there?” she said, gesturing with her gun. “We’ll use that for our aiming point. Keep your radio on and tuned to Radio Freedom so we can confirm we’re ready.” She turned and headed back.

The building she indicated was the same one they had met Garvey in. Tsuna handed off the grenades to Sin, as he had much better aim, and turned his radio back on. He absently listened to a report about how it was claimed the Railroad had taken down the Prydwen as Sin lobbed one of those grenades right into the building.

“Okay, got your smoke on the target,” Shaw cut in over the radio. “Might wanna stand back. You know, just in case.”

Sin retreated back to them and they waited.

The world shook as the artillery was fired, and a whoosh of sound came as a bomb or whatever landed more or less on the target, then again, and again, as the person manning it adjusted.

“That looked good from here,” Shaw said. “You’ve now got artillery support.”

The radio switched back to the usual music, so he switched it off. “Now that they’ve cleaned the place up, we should probably add a bit more in the way of amenities before leaving, then go let Garvey know, if he’s not already heard.”

“I’ve got to hand it to you, General. You’ve really turned things around for the Minutemen. I never thought I’d see the day that the Minutemen had artillery support again. We should see about building them at all our settlements to expand our coverage. And Ronnie Shaw returns… She’s something else, isn’t she.”

“She’s something all right.” Garvey didn’t need to know that Tsuna did not mean that in a complimentary way.

“I’d heard stories about her from the old-timers, but I had no idea she was still around. That fact that she’s come back to the Minutemen means we must be doing something right. Before you know it, we’ll take back the Commonwealth, one piece at a time.”

Tsuna got the hell out of Dodge before Garvey could lay another quest on him.

“It occurs to me,” Chikusa said as they booked it to safety, “that we all learned how to portal. What do you think of teaching the leaders, at least? It’s not like the Vindice are here to object.”

He blinked, shot his Rain a startled look, and nodded. “Yeah. Sure, they have the teleporters and can fly, but portals are so much more immediate and pinpoint. They can decide who amongst their number might be taught. It’s not like we know the rank and file intimately enough to make that decision.”

They found a convenient spot (the Red Rocket down the road that they had yet to do anything with) and shifted to Vault 121. On their way to track down Dino they encountered Verde, who said, “I have a set of lenses fabricated.”

“Oh,” Xeul said. “I can test them, then.”

Verde handed over a small case and waited patiently enough, for a mad scientist type, anyway.

Xeul slipped in the lenses and got them situated, then attempted to use them as windows.

Tsuna’s brow went up as Xeul’s eyes became black holes in his face, like peculiar wells to the great nothingness. Seeing him shifting his eyes around said Xeul was spying somewhere, but… The whole thing was just freaky as hell.

Xeul’s eyes went back to normal a moment later. “Seems to work just fine. Proper binocular vision. It was like I was standing right there looking around.”

“Not especially subtle, though,” Ken said.

Daemon twitched a brow and stared at his twin, clearly sharing a memory, which made more sense than trying to verbalize how off-putting the whole thing had been.

“Huh. That is odd,” Xeul said evenly. “Making the lenses black would be a start, and I know plenty of people wear larger lenses than normal, to make their eyes seem bigger.”

“No shine, though,” Hayato pointed out, “like normal eyes. A minor detail, perhaps?”

Verde nodded. “Yes, the second they were used, well… I can make them black, though. So long as the only clear part is for the pupils, it’s fine. I’ll fabricate a new set.”

“Before you wander off,” Tsuna said, “we dropped by to speak with the leaders, starting with Dino, and you guys. We learned, along the way, how to portal like the Vindice do, and were planning to teach the top tier. Teleportation is fantastic, but it only gets you to places you have a pad for.”

“And if a family member is in trouble elsewhere…” Verde nodded. “I don’t know how much use I would have for it, but I’d be willing to learn. Shall I alert the other Arcobaleno, to save you time?”

“Please. If we can get everyone who wants to learn together, get that knocked out…”

It was right on the heels of them finishing up “certifying” those involved (no one had declined) in the art of Vindice portals when a somewhat frantic minion raced in and said, “We got a weird one!”

Every set of eyes went to the man, who was sweating and looked to be a bit freaked out.

“Weird one…?” Dino said.

“One of the patrols ran into a serious shit show between a whole bunch of robots and a handful of humans. The sole remaining robot—’cause the humans are all dead—is all insistent about getting revenge or some shit. The guys didn’t really know how to handle the situation, so…”

Tsuna heaved a sigh. He had so been hoping to avoid that DLC. On the bright side, maybe Verde could have fun with the robot thing—or go all mad scientist on them once he got a good look at a Robobrain. “Right. Samsara will handle this. Got an approximate location?”

“Uh… It’s west and a little north of the BADTFL, west and a little south of Poseidon.”

He nodded, and eyed Dino, who blinked at him, then Verde. “I have a feeling… But I’ll get back to you on that. I need to see how this plays out. All right, any questions about portals?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Awesome. We’ll be off, then.”

After a quick step over to BADTFL they were off. A short pause to off a defect and they were skulking past the Tucker Memorial Bridge. There was a wooded area, just west of the highway overhead, and next to the ground-level road. He could see the Cavallone bunch milling around next to a bot that looked bashed together with parts from too many different types of robots. The bot in question, which he knew was called Ada, sported a dinged-up aqua paint job.

They made the various “dead” robots disappear as they approached, though Tsuna did pause to grab any repair kits. From what little he remembered (as he hated the Automatron DLC and rarely ever allowed it to trigger), Ada was hilariously fragile and they would need plenty to keep her up and running.

The squad looked so relieved to see them, and even more so when Tsuna said, “Guys, you can get back to whatever duty you were on. We’ll handle this.”

They packed off, so Tsuna eyed the area. Two dead men, two dead women, and one aqua robot.

“My friends … did not survive the attack. I thought I was certain to meet my end here as well.”

“Are you okay?”

“Physically, the damage is minor, but I am registering sadness and anger at the loss of my friends. It may sound strange coming from a robot, but they were my … family.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“My name is Ada. This was the third time we’d been attacked by robots like these. Even with the weapon and detection upgrades Jackson gave me, I was unable to defend them.”

Survivor’s guilt, in a robot…

“What do you know about these robots?”

“They roam the Commonwealth and claim to be restoring order. We’ve seen them fighting raiders, but they’ve also attacked innocents. Settlers, merchants … and caravans like ours. We knew we ran the risk of encountering more of these hostile robots if we stayed in the Commonwealth. If only we had made the decision to leave.”

“So why did you end up staying?”

“Our caravan specialized in mechanical repairs and trade. The Commonwealth has an abundance of salvage that would benefit our business. It was a calculated risk.”

Tsuna grimaced. “What’s done is done. You can’t change the past.”

“You’re right. I must look to the future. In recompense, I will seek justice for my friends and stop these robots from causing further harm. It’s time to uncover the source and confront their leader: the Mechanist.”

Daemon snorted. “The Mechanist? What a ridiculous name.”

“Perhaps, but the name does not change the level of threat. You have shown willingness to aid others. I ask that you please assist me in stopping this Mechanist. In return, I can give you the schematics to build your own robot workbench, so you have additional resources in this undertaking.”

“You’re edging into revenge territory there,” Sin pointed out, “not justice.”

“I admit my goal is twofold. Stopping the Mechanist both protects the Commonwealth, and allows me to avenge my fallen friends. I won’t rest until I see this threat dissolved. I owe it to them. We last saw a group of the Mechanist robots at the General Atomics Factory. You may find information there that will lead us to the Mechanist. I will follow and assist with your permission. General Atomics has valuable salvage. Chances are high the robots are still there.”

“All right. Follow along, then,” he said, accepting a set of schematics from her.

General Atomics was just north of the Castle subway station, so it was easiest to follow the highway southeast, then south, and finally east. There was no way he was going to shift a robot he’d only just met, even if he did expect she would keep his secrets. Or, they could just skip over to the station in Cambridge or Malden (Cambridge was closer) and ride the subway.

“But first, let’s do the decent thing and bury these people.”

They could hear new sounds once they entered, not the Mr Handys that had inhabited the place the last time they were there. 

After we’re done here we can finally strip this place, he wrote, and saw Ken nod in his peripheral vision.

“Quite a few impressive devices around here,” Ada commented.

Speaking of which, Ada is fragile, he said in private mode, so keep an eye on her. When I played this part I had to regularly use robot repair kits on her, so… We can also gain new robot parts from these once dead. The game let you use them in the workbench at that point, but maybe Verde can come up with schematics. We’ll figure it out. Meaning, don’t leave any corpses behind. Shift them wholesale to storage.

The room behind maglock doors had a new surprise. Aside from a few lesser robots, there was a Robobrain in there, and it wasn’t a pushover. Well, unless you were a flame-user. It had a device on it with tiny antennas.

“Hey, Ada?”

“Did you retrieve something from that robot?”

“Have you seen a robot with a brain like that before?” he countered.

“No, but my old caravan discovered records about them while we were scavenging military facilities. According to my data banks, it’s called the ‘Robobrain’. It was considered one of the most technologically superior robots ever constructed, but the model never reached full production status.

“Right. In any case, yes,” he said. “Strange little device, anyway.”

“Let’s have a look. Impressive technology,” she said once he showed it to her. “If my analysis is correct, this is a specialized radar beacon. I suspect it’s how the Mechanist was keeping track of the Robobrain you destroyed. As the next logical step, I need you to install this beacon within me so we can use it to our advantage.”

“Just like that?” Chikusa asked.

“While there’s only a 78.3% chance that I’m correct, I’d like to point out that it’s the only lead we have.”

“Let’s just hope it’s safe,” he said.

“I share your sentiment. You’ll need to use a robot workbench to ensure proper installation, and my presence will be required. To maintain peak efficiency, I strongly recommend that we remain together until the radar beacon is successfully installed.”

“I have just the place,” he said with a nod. Who wants to volunteer to step out with these schematics and turn back so that Verde has time to come up with a fabrication plan?

I will, Mukuro wrote. I’ll just replace with a combo clone so I’m not ‘missing’ from the party. Where were you planning to head?

Red Rocket, outside Sanctuary. It’s too small for a decent settlement, so… And it’s near a subway station.

Mukuro nodded.

“So, let’s mosey.” He let Sin and Daemon and the others take point back toward the subway station so he could hand off the blueprints Ada had given him, then surged forward to walk closer to the front of the pack.

What were these people doing anyway? Building robot workbenches every time they stopped, out of scavenged parts, just so they could do maintenance on their own creations?

He shrugged slightly as they exited the Concord station. I have to imagine so. Nothing I saw at that campsite spoke of one broken down for easier transport.

Mukuro caught up with them about halfway up the hill, seamlessly swapping with his clone and giving Tsuna a nod.

Verde came through—of course—and I already placed one there. He was in raptures, by the way.

He rolled his eyes slightly. I’m sure. Let’s hope he doesn’t go all mad scientist on us.

He was muttering something about the ‘personality matrices’ of these robots combined with the Mosca series.

Valentine just shook his head slightly as a result of not understanding, but everyone else nodded.

I can’t imagine he’d need or want to make that many to begin with. They’d be more for night shifts, I expect, when human eyes and human circadian rhythms aren’t as well suited for guard duty, as extra support.

That Robobrain sounded creepy as fuck, though, Hayato wrote. Not sure I want Verde anywhere near one of them.

Red Rocket came into view as they crested the hill, and he could see the workbench Mukuro had arranged for.

Which reminds me. While I doubt we’ll need them after, I have a flash drive for all of you to grab the plan from, Mukuro wrote.

“How interesting,” Ada said. “There is one here. Are you ready to install the radar beacon?”

He nodded. “Yes, let’s do this.”

“Just be certain you don’t disconnect anything essential while you’re rummaging through my circuitry. Once I’m in the robot workbench, just install the radar beacon and I’ll do the rest.”

“You don’t mind if I update you a little, do you? I’m pretty sure we picked up some Assaultron parts…”

“That would be fine.”

“Awesome.” He went over to the workbench and waited until Ada was on the platform, then manned the terminal. She was updated with Assaultron arms, legs, appropriate armor (anything to make her more durable—and faster, as Protectron legs were notoriously slow), and finally, the radar beacon.

Funny how it went from a small cube with sticky-outy bits to a long rod that stuck out of her shoulder and glowed. Didn’t look at all alike. “All right, I think we’re done.”

“A moment,” she said. “The modification was successful. New hardware has been detected and software is updating. …And installation complete. Analyzing Mechanist hardware. …The radar beacon is receiving a strong encrypted signal, but I can’t determine the source.”

“Is there a chance the Mechanist knows we’re tampering with it?”

“I’ve already added failsafes to ensure my location is secure and prevent any unintended commands the signal may issue. Unfortunately, none of that will help us determine the signal’s source.”

“Triangulation, maybe?” Hayato said.

“With some additional assistance, I should be able to decrypt the signal and locate the Mechanist. Fortunately, I’m detecting another Robobrain in the Commonwealth that’s receiving the same signal. We can use this to our advantage. The encryption on the source signal is complex, but not beyond solving. Two additional beacons should provide the keys and algorithms that I need to enhance my decryption routines. I’m uploading the location of the Robobrain to your Pip-Boy now. Just be careful. These robots tend to travel in groups, so you’re likely to encounter heavy resistance.”

His map showed the location to be south of Fairline and west of Jamaica Plains, which made Jamaica Plains the obvious location to travel to via subway. They ended up right next to Fallon’s Department Store and the West Roxbury Station, both of which were infested with super mutants, including _three_ suiciders.

The bots were duly taken out and the beacon retrieved. “Here you go, Ada. Beacon number two.”

“This will do nicely. And, with any luck, it’ll help us trace the Mechanist’s signal. I’m going to begin my decryption routine, but it could take a while. In the meantime, I’ve picked up another Robobrain beacon signal. It should be the last one you’ll need to collect. If my calculations are correct, the signal is coming from… Oh, this isn’t good. Location confirmed. The Robobrain is at Fort Hagen Satellite Array, which means it’s in the hands of the Rust Devils.”

“Nothing a little lemon juice and some steel wool won’t fix,” Xeul said.

“It’s going to take something a bit … stronger to overcome these foes,” Ada replied, only proving that humor was not part of her programming. “My old caravan encountered them once while crossing the river into the city. The Rust Devils are a group of ruthless raiders who utilize robots for their nefarious practices.”

Something to update the famiglie about.

“They scour the Commonwealth looking for my kind. What they can’t capture and reprogram, they strip for spare parts. I realize they pose a greater threat to me than you… I just want you to be well informed. That being said… Despite what lies ahead, I can easily continue to decrypt the signal as we proceed, so shall we be on our way?”

He nodded. “That’s not convenient to anything, so we’ll be walking the whole way. West across the river, then we can follow the highway north. But, it’s getting late, so we’ll have to stop for the night. Let’s head to Fairline.”

“I’ll send a message on ahead,” Daemon said, “let them know we’ll be crashing there tonight.”

“Thanks, brother.”

By the time they arrived Yuni was there to greet them and lead them to one of the surface structures that had been, by the looks of it, hastily repurposed. Daemon must have warned them about the clueless-and-not-to-be-clued-in robot with them.

While the others set about producing safe water and bentos, Tsuna was quietly updating Yuni about the Rust Devils threat so that she could warn the others. He assumed no one had yet run into them, as he would have expected a message asking about them.

“I’ll let everyone know,” she said with a sweet smile. “We don’t have visible robots, so they shouldn’t target any of us, but to be safe…”

“Awesome.”

“And I’ll ensure no one says anything they shouldn’t—or really, goes anywhere close,” she said, nodding toward their place for the night.

“Also awesome. Once this is done with I’ll update everyone, even if that means writing a report and sending copies to everyone. Verde knows some, but not much. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with new toys to play with.”

“Well, you get some rest and we’ll hear from you when we do.”

He wanted to give her a hug because she was just that cute, but nodded instead. “Night, Yuni.”

“Night, Heul.”

Daemon handed him a bottle of water so he could clean up, and a rag, and pointed at the bento they had set out for him.

We already impressed upon Ada not to wander while we’re sleeping, but a Bounding Box wouldn’t go amiss, assuming they even work on robots.

He set the rag aside once his hands were clean and took up his bento instead, nodding slightly.

Fort Hagen Satellite Array sported a number of robots outside, all tricked out in the latest raider fashions, and went down quicker than a village bicycle. So did the Rust Devils there, but they were human, so they required even less effort.

They had to use a terminal at the end of a plywood walkway to a half shack stuck to the side of a satellite to open the maglock door below. There was a single terminal entry.

> #### RUST DEVILS,  
>    
>  With all these Mechanist bots on the loose, we can't afford to skimp on the lookouts. For all we know, the bastard is planning a raid to take all our bots tomorrow.  
>    
>  No, Lockjaw, this doesn't mean you can set three bots to patrol the area and take a nap.  
>    
>  I want AT LEAST TWO living breathing humans patrolling the perimeter at all times, and let me know IMMEDIATELY if you see any strange bot come up the hill.  
>    
>  -IVEY

With the door at the base of the satellite open he could see a hatch leading down. And it went deep. Fort Hagen is looking even more attractive as a famiglie holding, he commented as they headed down the staircase.

At the mid-point of a heartlessly long journey involving laser tripwires, robot head explosives, tanks (inoperative, thankfully), Rust Devils, and Rust Devil bots, they came to a curious sight. A Robobrain brain was hooked up to machine that (ostensibly) allowed it to communicate. (The one set of power armor they found was shifted out behind Ada’s back and, according to one of the terminals they chanced upon, they were in Fort Hagen Hanger.)

At the very back, up a ramp behind said Robobrain, was a massive bot that Hayato and Xeul teamed up to destroy before they even finished crowding out of the doorway into the room.

“You don’t look like one of the Rust Devils,” the brain said when they got close enough. “What are you doing here?”

“Hunting down a radar beacon.”

“My radar beacon? Now that’s unexpected. That’s a very specific part to be searching for and you don’t look like the typical parts scavenger to me. I calculate a 98.8% chance that you’re looking for the Mechanist. If I’m correct, and I usually am, then perhaps we can help each other with our respective … predicaments.”

“I’m listening.”

“How refreshing. Then allow me to explain. Now, how can I put this as simple as possible so someone at your processing speed can understand? In order to find the Mechanist, you’re going to need more than just my radar beacon. You’re going to need access to the facility. One, you need to get me as far away as you can from these lunatics. And two, find me a new body. Once both conditions are satisfied, I’ll gladly provide you with everything you need. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal,” he said, much as he loathed the idea of dealing with the psycho he knew Jezebel to be.

“A wise decision. Once we’re at our destination, I’ll happily relinquish my radar beacon as a gesture of good faith. Now, I strongly suggest you stop loitering in the middle of a hostile location and get us both out of here at once.”

Xeul stepped up to detach the brain case from the machine and slung it over his back in a conveniently produced makeshift harness.

As they entered the only room containing the only door they had not gone through he heard, “Watch the tripwires. I’d rather keep myself intact today, thank you.”

Clearly, she did not need the machine she’d been attached to to be heard. Just as clearly, she was in no position to get a good view of the room, as the tripwires had already been dealt with. A terminal farther on had a new game holotape, which he acquired, because why not.

The next set of doors opened to the view of another tank.

“You really are taking the path of most resistance here, aren’t you?” Jezebel drawled.

Funny how the Rust Devil’s Assaultron that popped out to harass them was so much more scary and effective than Ada. Another terminal informed them that Jezebel had been captured at Pioneer Robotics Park, but the Rust Devils lost two of their Protectrons and three men. Ivey must be a real hoot at parties.

Ivey was up a few levels—

“Based on my limited experience with you, I estimate a 65% chance of making it out of here. Not optimal. An increase in effort could have an impact on the odds,” Jezebel said, which was followed closely by an odd blurping noise as Xeul got annoyed and zapped the brain case.

“Less talk,” Xeul said, “or I’m going to start believing you’re _trying_ to alert these idiots.”

—and accompanied by another raider-fied Assaultron. The walkway leading to structure she was in was littered with more laser tripwires and those repurposed-into-explosives bot heads on poles. Or maybe they were lasers-of-death poles. Ivey herself was decked out in power armor (which simply meant another suit for their collection) and the Assaultron with flaming sword arms.

Shortly after that was a terminal on the other side of the maglock door they were blocked by earlier (shortly after descending the staircase from the hatch) and they were able to exit.

“Thank goodness we are out of that hole,” Jezebel chimed in the second they were outside again. “Don’t think your job is done. I refuse to cooperate until you provide a body that meets my standards.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, that was fun, right? Let’s get to base,” he said, absently tossing a silencing spell at Xeul’s back so they didn’t have to hear her drawl the entire walk.

The radar beacon was snatched off the brain case and given to Ada.

“I’m not sure why you kept the head. All we needed was its radar beacon. Besides, Robobrains are notorious for being … well, a real pain in the neck.”

“It still has information we need to access the Mechanist’s facility.”

“Of course. It makes perfect sense that the Mechanist would not only keep its location a closely guarded secret, but would secure it against intrusion as well. I’m terribly sorry, I hadn’t considered that possibility at all. I’m afraid when it comes to assisting humans, I’m not doing very well lately.”

Considering how often we had to repair her?

“You’ve been integral to this process, Ada,” he said, though he did wonder if Verde could have handled things in a tenth of the time.

“Ever since I let my friends die in that caravan, I feel like I’ve been failing in my duties. I chose the route we took the day we were attacked. Perhaps if I had selected an alternate route, they’d still be alive. Sometimes I wish that Jackson had programmed me with my personality mode set permanently to disabled.”

“Your personality defines you as an individual. Never let that go.”

“You’re right. All of the good memories I’ve experienced being ‘Ada’ would be lost if my personality mode was shut down. I can’t afford to lose them. I really think I needed to hear that from someone else. Thank you. Now I’ve distracted you for long enough. I’ll finish up my calculations while you deal with our new ‘friend’. Hopefully she’ll be able to grant us access to the Mechanist’s facility and we can put an end to this nonsense once and for all.”

The robot workbench was put to use crafting a body for Jezebel, and of course, Tsuna was a troll, both because she was a psycho and because he was once again playing therapist to someone. Protectron everything except for her brain case, if only so she’d be slower than molasses. And pink paint, in honor of Sakura.

“Interesting,” Jezebel said once off the platform. “This body you’ve selected for me isn’t quite what I had envisioned, but it will have to suffice.”

“Yes, it will.”

“It’s certainly better than being stuck to a machine surrounded by Rust Devils poking and prodding me for their amusement. Look… It’s obvious we don’t care for each other’s company, which suits me just fine.”

We are scrapping this once Ada is safely in an actual settlement, yes?

Tsuna nodded, to both. Can’t afford to let her ‘live’, he replied in private mode. You’ll see why in just a moment.

“So why don’t you ask me everything you wanted to know and then I’ll be on my way.”

“So why did General Atomics make you so … uncooperative?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about. I am a top-of-the-line model with an efficiency rating that makes a Mr Handy look like a glorified toaster oven. When given a set of instructions, I will complete them without question and without error.”

“Right. Tell me everything you know about the Mechanist.”

“Now there’s a fascinating subject… The Mechanist. Amazingly adept at programming, a veritable genius with electronics. I’m not surprised you’re interested. I’ve been dutifully carrying out the Mechanist’s instructions to help the people of the Commonwealth for quite a long time.”

Couldn’t have been that long. We’ve heard nothing of these robots until just the other day.

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“I can’t imagine why. It’s actually quite simple. The Mechanist instructed me to seek out and help the people of the Commonwealth. By my calculations, the easiest way to help a human is simply to destroy it. There’s no point in prolonging a laughably fragile life.”

I see, was written in dark yellow.

“It’s the most efficient way to assist them. Any other effort to help tends to result in numerous complex side-effects.”

“I don’t think you understand the definition of ‘help’.”

“ ‘Help: to give or provide what is necessary to accomplish a task or to satisfy a need.’ I’m doing exactly as I was instructed. Assisting a human to the best of my abilities only affords a 25% survival rate. That means there’s a 75% chance that despite my efforts, the human I’m assisting will die from something beyond my control. Therefore it’s better to hasten the human’s death and put them out of their likely chance of misery than to deplete my limited time. It’s actually quite elementary, but given your minimal intellect, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t understand.”

“Uh huh,” he said. “Back to how to access the Mechanist’s facility.”

“I did promise to answer your questions … and unlike humans, I don’t have the capacity to lie. It’s rather simple, really. In order to gain entry to the Mechanist’s facility, you’re going to need to outfit one of your robots with an ‘M-SAT’ modification. I’ll upload the plans to your Pip-Boy device. …There. I’ve fulfilled my portion of our agreement. Perhaps I’ll remain here for a while and see how things resolve between yourself and the Mechanist … purely for my own amusement, of course. I suspect you’ll have quite a tale to tell once you return, but then again, I’d be surprised if you ever return at all.”

Jezebel turned away and started stomping around, taking in the scenery.

“Time for a break,” he said, taking a moment to transfer the schematic onto a flash drive, which he then slipped to Daemon. “Let’s have something to eat. Ada, will you keep an eye on her while we do?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Daemon created a clone around himself and stepped out, presumably to use his time turner so he could ask Verde to come up with a fabrication plan, while they broke out cleaning supplies and food, ostensibly from their packs.

They were just sitting down to eat when Daemon seamlessly swapped with his clone and sat as well so he could eat with them, and slipped him the device back behind Ada’s back.

A short time later he was saying, “Well, we got what we needed. Just need to install this M-SAT thing.”

“A custom modification that acts as a key to the Mechanist’s facility,” Ada said, still facing toward where Jezebel was stomping around. “Very smart. In fact, chances are high the M-SAT may be required for multiple access points, like a robot identification card. As for my task, I was able to decrypt the signal with the final radar beacon. The source is coming from a RobCo Sales & Service Center. Most likely a front for a larger operation. It’s time to take the offensive. Have you formulated a plan?”

“I’ll improvise when I get there.”

“Yes. The actual confrontation will allow you to make a more educated decision. Now, if you’re ready, I believe you have an M-SAT to install.”

A quick stop at the robot workbench took care of that.

RobCo was between the East Boston PD and the airport, just across the river from the Old North Church. Meaning, Goodneighbor was the closest station.

“Let’s head to Goodneighbor, then.” And if one of you would do the honors of dealing with the psycho once we’re out of sight? The parts can be scrap, but that brain…?

RobCo was right on the water. He supposed perhaps they shipped that way for certain orders. Perhaps. In the basement (after disarming a laser tripwire in the way) was a curious device on the wall.

“Ada, you want to take a look at this?”

“Of course.” Ada moved into position and scanned the thing, which caused a section of the wall to shift away, along with numerous other doors behind it. A concrete ramp led downward, the walls to either side covered in cables and ductwork.

As they approached the bottom, where a huge bank vault-style door waited, a mechanical voice said, “Incoming robot detected. Opening security doors.” The sign on the wall read: robotics technology facility. rb-2851).

Behind that was another vault door swung open, and another. A reception or check-in desk was up ahead, behind mesh walls that just screamed military, and a skeleton was draped over the surface of the counter, just next to a defunct terminal.

“No biosigns detected. Proceed,” the voice said, which made no damn sense whatsoever.

“Apparently I’m secretly a highly advanced robot,” he muttered.

Around the corner was a series of decontamination arches blistered with laser tripwires. To the left he could see a side “room” with a fusion generator, the core just begging to be acquired, and in the distance he could see something moving around. A grenade knocked out all the lasers, but also triggered an alert.

“Intruder alert. Intruder alert in Decontamination Chamber 3.”

Given that he knew there were bots on the other side waiting to attack, it didn’t matter to him that he’d alerted them early. The generator room had a blown-out back wall and a “secret” entrance into the control room, through another blown-out wall.

While the others (sans Sin) took care of the trash, Tsuna was busy poking around in the terminal back there.

> #### ***WARNING***  
>  An Epsilon-VI Security Alert has been declared. All systems have been locked down. Secure your station and await further instructions.

He checked [Security Protocol Reference] to refresh his memory. The relevant section of the explanation for Epsilon-VI read:

> #### As a failsafe, if the Control Center has been compromised, a limited manual override can be initiated from the elevator access terminal in Security Room 3. Voiceprint identification of three registered Class-II supervisor-level employees is required to activate the override.

At the end of the room was a door, but when he looked to the left, the expected lift was there, along with a terminal. Sadly, even harmonizing through it when Ada wasn’t looking wouldn’t help. To use it he would need to find holotapes.

The voice chose that moment to say, “Error. Electrical fault in sensor array. Sensors offline.”

Through the door and at the head of the ramp was a better view through a mesh and concrete wall of overhead conveyors, presumably to move goods around within the manufactory. An Eyebot dropped down via a tube in the ceiling and said, “So the Scourge of the Commonwealth has used my own technology against me. You may have gained access to my sanctum, but you’ll need better skills than that to defeat me.”

A few more bots popped out of the woodwork to be destroyed. Signs on the wall next to a destroyed hallway read research wing and robobrain r&d. At the opposite end was another device for Ada, holding vigil next to another (presumed) set of multiple doors, with a sign to the left which read production wing.

The Chief Engineer’s terminal was in there, with four entries, only three of which seemed relevant.

> #### Maintenance Issue 09007889-AB  
>    
>  After dome implementation, the brain on the above subject started exhibiting physical changes. The subject's dura turned some kind of mottled brown color, and started to break down after only twelve hours in the solution.  
>    
>  Turns out, the bio-gel was tainted with sulfuric acid runoff from the dome polishing compound and a reaction was occurring when they met. Unfortunately, this subject is a total loss. We'll have to just write it off as bad luck and switch polishing compounds immediately.  
>    
>  Maintenance Issue 09008112-AB  
>    
>  We're continuing to have issues maintaining cohesion between the neural interface and the spinal column nerve endings. The nerves reject the connections faster than we can rebind them. I know we were hoping to keep the spinal columns intact for the Robobrains, but it's obviously not going to happen.  
>    
>  I'd suggest we revert back to the original plan -- the good old brain in a jar prototype. It will reduce the amount of life support subsystems significantly, as well as cut production time almost by a third. I'll submit my findings to the brass in Washington tomorrow.  
>    
>  Maintainance Issue 09008777-AC  
>    
>  We got the first batch of Robobrains back from testing, and they're a mess. Cracked domes, thrown treads, overloaded fusion piles, fried circuits -- the list goes on and on.  
>    
>  This particular issue is troubling though. According to the field users, some of the Robobrains are misinterpreting commands. The on-board brain seems to almost overthink these instructions and "decide" to rewrite them for efficiency purposes. Most of the time, this results in property damage or even a few civilian fatalities.  
>    
>  I've gone over every square inch of the faulty units and I can't find a thing wrong with them. I'm going to have to send this issue over to research and see what they can shake out. At least our department is in the clear on this one.

Next to the terminal was a holotape.

> “Lead Engineer, Thomas Harkin. So far, we’re tracking on schedule for the latest Robobrain milestone. Dr Asante has assured me that active time between memory wipes has been greatly increased. Hopefully, that will hold true in our latest live testing.
> 
> “The senior engineers also informed me that their latest assembly line adjustments have been completed early. I can only hope that means due diligence was still paid, and we’re not going to be looking at a total system breakdown again.
> 
> “Other than that, I’m still worried about the … test subjects. Right now, we’ve more than enough to meet our demand, but it’s not like these things grow on trees.”

Tsuna sighed. “RobCo and the military. Our nation’s finest.”

“We see any of those fuckin’ things in here and I’m whacking them,” Hayato said with a scowl.

“Feel free, darling. As importantly, this holotape has one of the voices we’d need to use the lift. Vote?”

Sin rolled his eyes. “If this goes anything like how it usually does? I say we do our damnedest to find two more applicable tapes and bypass what’s sure to be a big blowout battle at the end.”

“Motion carried,” Daemon said.

“All right, then. We’ll keep looking.”

Around the corner was a menacing sight. Overhead conveyors were running back and forth, each carrying a robot. Presumably “live” ones. The blurping and bleeping noises were a hint, too. “This ought to be fun,” he drawled.

Only after the floor down the ramp was positively littered with scrap robots did they continue.


	13. λ34: 13: Commonwealth, Nuka-World

## λ34  
13: Commonwealth, Nuka-World  
“Staying hydrated is half the battle.”

He had to use the bridge controls to extend the bridge over a ramp to afford access to the other side (Ada could not jump that high) in order to get to the next curious device for her to scan, which opened another set of layered doors.

The room they entered had mesh walls and a maglock door. The space beyond was ill lit, but he knew it was the main chamber in front of where the Mechanist was lurking. They would end up going around in a circle almost, seeing similar views on varying levels. He was starting to regret not having brought a “dumb” robot instead of Ada, as they could have cheesed the obstacles that way without worrying about said robot talking about their abilities, but…

There was another device around the corner, which Ada handily dealt with; the sign on the wall read: facilities wing. As they passed through and started down a ramp, another Eyebot dropped down from a broken tube and started talking.

“The Commonwealth is right to fear people like you. People who have no respect for human life. Who only wish death or pain for those around them. That’s why I, the Mechanist, have made it my solemn vow to protect the innocent. To put an end to people like you.”

Sin blew it away a moment later, which meant more scrap for them.

“The final confrontation awaits,” Ada said. “I only hope we both live to see it.”

‘You have no idea.’

Through a window he could see a bot stomping up a ramp. Sadly, the glass in those things was bulletproof. Then it ran back down (possibly in response to Ada speaking) and whipped around the corner to attack them, along with a buddy.

Sadly, one had gatling lasers and Ada went down (again) during the confrontation. She was not much of an Assaultron, all told. Farther on, at the bottom of a ramp, the air was hazy. “Measures, darlings. I don’t think we want to breathe any of that, and it’s likely explosive.”

It was watery down there. Some massive nuclear reactors were tucked away to the right, on par in size with the Vault-Tec ones. The terminal on the catwalk above was for Power Substation A, but held nothing of value for information.

Back on track, they headed through an area with lockers covering one wall, and were promptly attacked again as a bot came around the corner from the left. Considering he had yet to see a bathroom in the vicinity, Tsuna was confused as to why there was a toothbrush and toothpaste in one of the cubbies. Were they brushing their teeth at a water fountain?

The “room” opened out into a rectangle of a room, blocked to the right by debris, with a large garage-style door to the left. Train tracks ran the length, and a glowing button stood silent vigil to the side. Beyond was what could only be labeled a junkyard, with heaps of scrap and a warehouse-style structure to the right, up a level, though the industrial-style staircase he could immediately see was blocked by debris.

More bots could be seen roaming around, presumably there to sort through the garbage for anything usable by the Mechanist. Massive arms hung down from the ceiling, on rails, and abandoned carts rested on the tracks, loaded with wooden crates and other such. The tracks led to a closed-off opening in the far wall.

More nuclear reactors were tucked away below the warehouse, three of them, and up the stairs was more haze. A gas leak, he presumed. As tempting as it was to just shoot and set it alight, he knew there was a holotape in there somewhere.

Down at the end was a functioning terminal and the holotape he was expecting, recorded by the Facilities Director. A sign overhead, attached to the end of a duct, read: facilities management.

> “Tony Delano, Facilities. Air filtration’s on the fritz again. It’s like a constant haze in here. I swear to god if these people don’t quit smoking, I’m going to sue for health benefits. Yeah, like anyone here would allow that to happen.
> 
> “Anyway. I got McDaniel up there taking a look, but if that fan needs replacing again, I’m having Fadley fired. I don’t care if he’s some hotshot’s kid. He can’t do his job, and I’m the one that’s gotta answer to Rawlings.”

Beyond the terminal, above where they had entered, was a conveyance, like an open gondola, but before he could get that close to it, another Eyebot dropped down from a convenient tube.

“You may be getting closer, but I will not falter. My robots will see to it that no further harm will come to the Commonwealth. I believe that good will always overcome evil. Justice will prevail today.”

At the end of the ride, once they got close enough, was a metal garage-style door which opened into a hook-shaped room with another curious device at the end. Beyond those doors was mesh walls and a view into the main chamber again. Stairs led down.

Another maglock door to the left, and a door to the right with a sign which read: research wing. The cage next to it did not bode well, nor did the medical equipment.

Beyond, the first sign he saw read: forfeiture. Why there was a crate of plastic plates in there he just could not comprehend. To the right of a desk was another door, with a sign which read: property storage.

The room beyond that, protected by a terminal which Sin hacked, was filled with weaponry and ammunition.

The terminal outside (holding block a watch station) had some illuminating entries.

> #### Personal Log Entry: Msg. G. C. Broadrick, U.S. Army M.P. Division  
>  Entry: 0L68-CBGT044  
>  Status: Encoded  
>    
>  They're offloading another set of "subjects" to us today. I don't know what these men and women did to deserve being sent here, but since they were transferred from civilian penitentiaries, I can only assume they're the worst society has to offer. I don't think these people have any idea what's about to happen to them. One thing's for sure, these prisoners would have better off serving their time elsewhere.  
>    
>  Personal Log Entry: Msg. G. C. Broadrick, U.S. Army M.P. Division  
>  Entry: 0L68-CBGT052  
>  Status: Encoded  
>    
>  I'm starting to hear rumors around the block that I don't like. Esteban told me that he overheard two of the eggheads saying that the prisoners are having the brains cut out of their heads or something like that. I know that the brass is running experiments on these inmates, and that they were pretty intense, but I didn't know they were literally cutting them open. I'm not sure how I feel about that -- after all, I joined the military because I wanted to serve my country and protect my fellow Americans. I guess I'll keep it to myself for now.  
>    
>  Personal Log Entry: Msg. G. C. Broadrick, U.S. Army M.P. Division  
>  Entry: 0L68-CBGT057  
>  Status: Encoded  
>    
>  The rumors floating around the block are getting worse. One of our informants said that the prisoners are talking about rioting. If the things that they're saying are true -- that inmates are getting dissected and the parts used for robots -- I almost can't say that I blame them. Esteban said we should go straight to Gamma-IX status, but I don't want to push the panic button unless I absolutely have to. I've decided to take this all the way to the top and meet with General Rawlings. Criminals or not, these experiments are wrong and they need to be stopped before it's too late.  
>    
>  Personal Log Entry: Msg. Raymond Esteban, U.S. Army M.P. Division  
>  Entry: 0L68-LLRM001  
>  Status: Encoded  
>    
>  Broadrick got reassigned out of the facility today. I think they have him scrubbing toilets at some backwater listening post in Anchorage now. They put me in charge of the cell block and I initiated Gamma-IX status. After two days, the threat of rioting has ended and everything is back to normal. The brass gave me the go ahead to start sending people to the medical station, and everything is proceeding as planned.  
>    
>  If we have any hope of beating the enemy at their own game, we need to get these robots online -- who cares what happens to a few lousy inmates. I told Broadrick he needed to fall in line, but he wouldn't listen. Of all people, I would have expected him to understand that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

“Anyone want to wager on whether Broadrick really did end up in Anchorage, or here as a prisoner?” Chikusa asked.

“He also implies that the Chinese were cutting up their own people to cobble together into robots,” Hayato said.

Tsuna shook his head. “I wonder how many psychos were in the military. We already know Vault-Tec was infested with them. It’s kind of the same as what we encountered with TranStar, really. Except, you know, Vault-Tec was experimenting on innocent civilians, whereas these guys and TranStar were using criminals.”

Signs over the door leading on read: research labs and holding block a.

What greeted them was a long room with cells down the length on either side. Down the center was a track system for the gurneys he could see. Most of the cells had dead ghouls in them, but a few were still alive. If nothing else, them being behind locked cell doors meant Ada could attack and not get shut down from damage again.

Upstairs was a mesh walkway, with glass over each cell so a monitor could look in on the prisoners. A terminal up there held information about some of the subjects, including a serial killer, arsonist, two murderers, and someone convicted of manslaughter.

Back downstairs there were two items of interest. One, a button to open a garage-style door (which failed to do anything), and two, a circuit breaker, which he flipped, and which opened all the closed cell doors and set off rotating warning lights. A ghoul came charging down the length of room (where it’d been hiding he had no idea) to attack, and only then, when it was defeated, did the garage-style door decide to open.

It revealed a lift, which the tracks connected to. A gurney was on it, with a ghoul strapped into place. The brain case attached at the head was empty, which only made sense. The bombs must have dropped while they were in the middle of “normal” operations, and clearly the facility was not sealed against radiation (or the reactors had been jostled enough to release some).

“This place is just sick,” Ken said roughly as they came to a stop.

The gurney automatically moved into position to trundle down the track at the bottom, but did not automatically exit the lift. Ahead was a series of decontamination arches, which opened to a somewhat confusingly-shaped two-storey room. To the right and right again was a lab, packed with medical equipment.

A terminal up a half flight of stairs was designated: brain extraction workstation 02.

> #### [Div03-BE-0093]  
>    
>  Once again, thanks to equipment failures, we're getting pretty backed up in this department. The brain extractors were never made to operate at this capacity -- I think they've been running around the clock for the last few weeks. We usually end up with a popped blade from slicing through a particularly tough skull, or the hydraulics in the pulling arm seize up when the spinal cord isn't fully severed and the brain is pulled too early. I hope Ciroletti doesn't yell at us again -- this really isn't our fault.

“Has anyone else noticed that entries on terminals are never directly sequential?” Sin said. “They always skip. What happened to the rest of them?”

“And how much worse are they,” Daemon muttered.

The other three entries were proof that the people in the division had no conscience.

brain extraction was across the way, and there were plenty of them there, just floating in tanks. Tsuna eyed Hayato, who nodded and started disintegrating every last one of the things. No one needed the brains of nutjobs hanging around, and they had already been tortured more than enough.

In there was the Chief Scientist’s holotape.

> “Anise Ciroletti, Chief Scientist. This is the third time I’ve had to request more security. As thorough as our assembly procedures may be, there’s a human factor to be considered. These are criminal and unstable minds. It can’t be a scientist’s job to ensure each test subject is properly sedated.
> 
> “I was promised military assistance and security, but we need more. I won’t allow my crew to be endangered. As fascinating as it may be to integrate the human mind with robotics, sometimes I wish I had never signed on to this project.”

Her terminal held transcripts with some of the “reconditioned” brains, but he didn’t bother to read through them. It didn’t matter in the long run. “Why they thought memory-wiping criminal brains wouldn’t come back to haunt them… Anyway, that makes three.”

“So let’s destroy all the brains, then backtrack,” Mukuro said. “It only seemed like a terribly long journey due to all the bots kicking up a fuss. Jezebel alone shows just how bad an idea this was, but even their own records show the problems, yet they kept on anyway. And people call me a psycho?”

“Right, let’s indulge in some wanton destruction, then backtrack to that lift.”

The only option left on the lift terminal was [Initiate Manual Override], which he chose.

> #### Accessing security protocol registry...  
>  ...done.  
>  Confirming availability of manual override...  
>  ...done.  
>  Please provide the requisite authorization.

Tsuna loaded in the first holotape and let it play just long enough for the Lead Engineer to say his name and title, then stopped the tape and ejected it. He followed up with the Facilities Director, then the Chief Engineer. He was then given the option to [Confirm Manual Override], which he took.

> #### ...Authorization confirmed.  
>  ...Manual Override confirmed.  
>  Releasing security lockdown on the elevator...  
>  ...done.  
>    
>  A limited manual override is now in place. Be advised that, as a precaution, return access from the Control Center is prohibited until the Security Alert has ended.

The lift doors to his right opened, so he backed off the terminal and entered. It was only a single tile, so it was more than a bit crowded in there, but they managed. The lift announcer helpfully informed them they had reached the Control Center, just before the door opened.

To the left, down the hall, were two signs on the wall. control center (pointing left) and storage (pointing right). Their quarry was in the Control Center, so he headed to the end and through the door on the right. There were a ton of brain cases there stacked up atop various machines, and more with barrel-shaped torsos, locked in place, busy pecking away at various consoles. Blast shutters were in place at the front of the room, separating the room from the main chamber.

The Mechanist (complete with cheesy 50s superhero outfit) turned as they entered.

“Impossible. I control all points of access to this room.”

“You underestimated us,” he said plainly.

“A regretful miscalculation. You bypassed the pinnacle of pre-war security systems. I can see you’re no common criminal. Perhaps we can reason this out.”

Oh, now they want to talk? Hayato wrote. Now, when they’re face-to-face and can’t use all their robots to fight the good fight?

“Let us discuss this … amicably.”

“Let’s start with who you are,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s time you ditched that mask?”

“You’re … you’re right.” The Mechanist reached up and popped their helmet off, revealing a perfectly normal, dusky-skinned young woman. “I’m Isabel. Cruz. The Mechanist was just an easy way for me to help the Commonwealth. But all my technical knowledge, all of these resources, and I still failed. How does the Commonwealth have any hope against people like you?”

“We aren’t the enemy. We’ve been trying to protect the Commonwealth against your robots.”

“That can’t be right,” Cruz protested. “Explain yourself.”

“They’re misinterpreting orders. Your own Robobrain said as much. Their idea of saving people is to kill them.”

“Saving by … killing? No, it’s… The logic … it’s there… I can see it now. I was hoping it was the Robobrains, an issue with their memory wipes… But you’re right. Their primary directive was flawed.”

Does she not realize she just implied that she knew they were killing innocents?

“Now you understand. Your robots are dangerous and had to be stopped.”

“The hero unknowingly became the villain…” Cruz looked crushed. “I wanted to help the Commonwealth, and robots are all I know.”

Hopelessly naïve, willfully blind…

“I found this place, and figured I could finally do my part. I accept full responsibility. I can’t take back what I’ve done or even atone for it. But this doesn’t have to end in violence.”

“Those Robobrains were made from psychos, murderers, arsonists… Didn’t you read any of the terminals here? So long as you agree to stop sending them out—hell, I’m not too sure about the Robobrains you have in here, but you’d know better than us what kind of mischief they’d be able to cause to this facility. You can’t even attempt to atone if you’re dead, so no, we’re not going to kill you. Only to get you and your robots to stand down.”

“Done. Consider it done,” she said quickly. “And you won’t regret this. I promise. None of the Commonwealth will. Here, take this. It’s the password to the mainframe. You can use it to shut down the security protocols. I just … I’d rather this place be in your hands now.”

He handed it off to Sin, who trundled over to the terminal at the back, and shortly thereafter the blast doors receded.

“Hey, just one more thing … if you have a minute,” Cruz said. She had pulled off a costume change in the amount of time it had taken Sin to release the security lockdown.

“What is it?”

“Just a quick thing… I just wanted to say … I’m really happy … thankful … that you’re letting me stick around here. And in order to show you that I’m done with the past… I want you to have this … as a sort of promise, I guess. It’s the … Mechanist suit I made.” Cruz handed it over, the outfit and helmet.

He awkwardly held it and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. There’s one more thing … a much bigger thing,” she said. Poor girl was infected with Ellipsis Syndrome. “There are still robots out there. Lots of them,” she said with wide eyes. “My communications are down and I can’t call them back, but I can tell you where they are … if you’re interested.”

“Yeah, hold that thought. I have an idea, but it’ll take a little time to get that in place.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe later then. Right?”

“Just hang tight. I need to get into contact with a friend, set a few things up. Then we should be able to have teams sent out to deal with the issue, and assist any survivors, point them at a settlement they can recover at or choose to live at. We’re just gonna poke around a bit, then I’ll send a message to my friend.”

She glanced at his Pip-Boy. “I didn’t realize they could send messages…?”

Considering the Mechanist suit had something very similar to a Pip-Boy embedded in it…

“Ours are modified. On a side note, is there a simpler way to exit this facility?”

“Oh, yes. The freight elevator down there,” she said, pointing.

“Awesome.” He nodded and wandered off, so he could look for anything interesting. He had already amassed a collection of robot models on their journey. He also wanted to be in a different room when he finished things up with Ada. Hopefully the clacking of the Robobrains manning consoles would cover the sound of them talking.

He planned to drop her off at Sanctuary; she should get on just fine with Garvey and be thrilled to be part of the defenses.

There was a schematic in one of the rooms for wall-mounted spotlights, but he ignored it. Verde could do better. It _was_ amusing, however, that the terminal in there was named Hubris. True, it was probably named after Hubris Comics, but the word combined with Cruz’s naïvety and blindness… It came across as ironic.

A different room held a schematic for Eyebot Pods, which he did take. He knew what they did in the game, and assumed it was something similar. If nothing else Verde could have a look and figure out if it’d be of any use.

“I trust the outcome is what you wanted?” Ada said when he stopped to talk with her.

“So far, yes. She now knows the truth and has stood down,” he said, wondering why she even asked since she’d been there in the room while they confronted the Mechanist.

“So the Mechanist really was misguided. Did she reveal her motives and reasoning?”

Seriously, did Ada just stop paying attention if there was nothing to shoot at?

“She truly wanted to help people,” he said, playing along. “She didn’t know what the Robobrains were doing. To her, a life saved was a life saved.” Still almost criminally negligent, but in this dimension…

“A biological wildcard. The unknowns are vast. She had to know the risk she was taking by creating them. Many good people endured suffering and death because of the Mechanist. It’s a shame a mind as brilliant as hers allowed such … atrocities to be committed.”

“She’s good at heart. She made a mistake, a big one, and she’ll have to live with that guilt.”

“I believe I have a certain understanding when it comes to guilt. While it’s not the justice I had hoped for, it will suffice. Still, I now know that the death of my friends has brought about a safer Commonwealth. Had the Mechanist’s robots remained unchecked, I’m certain the damage would have been extensive. Halting, if not reversing, any progress that has been made here. With this knowledge, I am finally registering feelings of satisfaction and accomplishment … and I have you to thank for it.”

With that he saw a system message of: complete: restoring order.

He trundled back to Cruz and said, “Yeah, I need to talk to my friend in person, so we’re gonna bail for now. We’ll be back to set up a system to handle those robots, okay?”

“Oh, uh, yes. All right.”

Before they left he slapped a Minutemen insignia on Ada, then everyone piled onto the freight elevator.

“Huh, Jezebel must have gotten bored and wandered off,” he commented blandly as they passed the Red Rocket. “We’ll have to keep an eye out. Ada, just across the bridge there is Sanctuary Hills, a settlement. I know they’d love to have an extra hand on defense, so ask to speak to Garvey, Preston Garvey. He’s in charge there and can get you situated.”

“My thanks,” she said, then headed off.

Tsuna backtracked to the interior of the Red Rocket, then shifted himself and Valentine to Vault 121. His family followed (of course) and they trooped off to find Verde.

“Are you now going to explain this robot workbench thing?” was the first thing out of Verde’s mouth when they stumbled over him in his lab complex.

Tsuna responded by shifting a ton of “dead” robots to a clear spot on the floor. “Parts and more parts, more than enough to make plans from. The only limitation I’m asking you to adhere to is to stay the fuck away from the Robobrains. They’re psycho.”

Daemon stepped in to relay various bits of information they had uncovered in the facility under RobCo, which caused Verde to look torn between fascination and revulsion.

“Please tell me you destroyed them, then.”

“Most of them, yes. The ones Cruz has manning the control center, no. But those ones are fixed in place. We can always quietly install cameras so someone can make sure she doesn’t go back on her word. You might get some use out of the workbench and these parts when it comes to integration with the Mosca series, but that isn’t the only reason we came to talk.

“Cruz pointed out that there’s a _lot_ of robots still out there that need to be curtailed or destroyed. We were considering asking the Skies to set up a dispatcher and teams, and asking you to make a modified version of the Pip-Boys you did for us, one that’d let Cruz send out requests when she’s located a robot group, but not much else. Like, just a single address she could contact and get confirmation from. None of the other features, like remote access to vaults, nothing that would compromise security.

“She doesn’t need to know she’s dealing with the mafia, and I sure as hell don’t plan to put a teleporter over there. You know, maybe we can convince her to interface with the various Minutemen settlements and provide robot defense in exchange for food and such?”

“So long as she clearly marked her robots with her symbol so the Minutemen knew who they were dealing with, possibly their symbol as well,” Chikusa said. “Maybe on supply routes? Even odds they’ll add more settlements beyond what we’ve done, so robot defense and such might be very attractive.”

“I’m willing to make a sharply pared down version of our Pip-Boys, yes,” Verde said. “I would prefer the Skies agree to this venture first, though, as their people will be the ones handling the calls for assistance. I’m also wondering if we should arrange to purchase a satellite or two from an alternate and set up a proper satellite network, so we could video conference and such. As it is we can only do LANs, not WANs, not unless we slap wireless routers all over the damn place to carry the signal.”

“We can ask,” he said with a shrug. “It’d be hellaciously expensive, I expect. I would think a single satellite would do the trick, right? It’s not as if the Commonwealth is that big. More if there was expected expansion down the line, generations-wise, I mean.”

“Or maybe we, ah, ‘borrow’ a satellite,” Daemon said, “long enough for Verde to work up plans, then quietly return it? Why come up with all that money—which wouldn’t be an issue, but still—when we could just make our own?”

“Bael might be able to get his hands on one,” Mukuro added. “You’d have to bribe him, of course. You know he wouldn’t do it without plenty of your cooking as an excuse to be difficult.”

Tsuna snorted and nodded. “True. But doable. All right, so two issues, then. Bael and a satellite, and talking to the Skies. Because the sooner we get back to Cruz the better. There’s no telling how many Robobrains are out there willfully killing people off.”

“Sending out messages now,” Xeul said, intently staring at his Pip-Boy. “They’ll want an update anyway.”

While they were waiting on the Skies to agree on a meeting time, Tsuna stepped over to Storage so he could start a cooking and baking spree, all aimed toward bribing Bael with. Valentine opted to go spend a bit of time with Ellie, and asked that they let him know when things started moving again so he could use the teleporter in Home Plate, which Tsuna agreed to.

Sin helped him, as that would only improve the results.

“I really did not want to deal with that DLC,” he complained. “I knew it was a potential option, and was avoiding it.”

“I can see why,” Sin said. “We’re talking some seriously wrong shit here. Basically, anything the military had its fingers in went psychotic.”

“I’ll warn you now, if we _do_ get pulled into dealing with the continuation of Valentine’s story, well… There are more Robobrains we’d encounter, but thankfully, none of them were made from inmates.”

Sin’s brow went up.

“I could spoil it, but… I’ll just say there’s only one bad apple and leave it at that. Come to think of it, I can think of another oddity along those lines. We should start checking the radio tab on our Pip-Boys more often. After dealing with two of the DLC, I have to wonder if Nuka-World is on the menu.”

“Nuka-World? That a theme park or something?”

He nodded. “John-Caleb Bradberton. Or maybe it was Caleb-John? I forget. The creator of Nuka-Cola and founder of an empire. Ended up making a theme park sorta like Disney. In the game it was taken over by three distinct groups of raiders, with an Overboss, and they enslaved the original traders there, put bomb collars on them to keep them in line.”

“If the Great Shuffler forced the issue of Automatron, well…”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.

Sin paused to check his Pip-Boy and winced. “Actually…”

“Oh hell,” he muttered. “Fine, but not until after we’ve finished up these two issues. I know we won’t be around here forever, but better communications between the compounds is an excellent idea, and I don’t want to leave the Cruz thing unfinished.”

They had a number of dishes completed and in stasis when Daemon popped up to inform them of a meeting time, which was set for the next day at ten. Bael was hunted down via window and posed the task of acquiring a satellite for Verde to duplicate and, as expected, demanded compensation in the form of Tsuna’s cooking.

Tsuna simply pointed to the stack of dishes already set to one side and said, “And I’m planning more. I know it’s going to be less than simple for you to find one for us to ‘borrow’, but at least we should be able to put it back mere seconds after Verde is done, so it won’t matter in that respect.”

Sin was busy in the background placing all that food into boxes inscribed with stasis runes and shifting them over one by one.

“Check back in a week, my time,” Bael said.

“How are the boys doing?”

“Well. I’ve continued my efforts to inoculate them against stupidity, so they should grow into rational adults.”

“Awesome,” he said happily. “All right. We’ll get back with you in a week and see where we are.”

The Mechanist suit was carefully sanitized and stuck on a mannequin, next to the Minutemen General outfit. He considered seeing if the Silver Shroud thing was a thing, but…

The Skies were agreeable to the idea of a dispatcher and teams, knowing that there could not be an infinite number to handle, as it would give all their people sorely-needed experience in the field of their new dimension. They were already getting experience just from cleaning up the outlying areas around their respective compounds, but the Skies took the situation as just another training exercise to take advantage of.

That being the case, Verde was given the go ahead to make the modified Pip-Boy and a dispatch office was created with a rotating set of four dispatchers, each intended to man a six hour shift.

Samsara shifted back to the freight entrance for the Mechanist’s lair and headed down so they could explain things to Cruz. “So, here,” he said, handing over the Pip-Boy, which had the Mechanist “M” on it. “If you’ll put that on, we’ll explain how this will work.”

She accepted it and latched it around her forearm, then looked at them expectantly.

Tsuna had her bring up the messaging system on it and walk her through sending a dispatch request. “You’ll receive a message back confirming the request… There it is,” he said. “The dispatcher will send out a team to handle it. So each time you locate another group, send another request. It probably wouldn’t hurt if you used a normal terminal to keep track of which groups you’ve sent requests for, the date, that sort of thing.”

Maybe in the future Verde would get curious enough about just how intelligent and good at programming she was, and contact her, but that wasn’t particularly Tsuna’s business.

“On a side note, we’ve been talking, and we wondered if you might be interested in making robots for defensive purposes—no Robobrains, obviously—and talking with the various Minutemen settlements. Technically, I’m the General of the Minutemen, so if I say it’s a go, they won’t get too fussed. The point is, you’ve really got nothing here to grow your own food, and I don’t know how well the robots do when it comes to gathering food for you. You could work out an exchange with the Minutemen, supplies for defense.”

Cruz blinked owlishly at him. “Who would I talk to, if not you?”

“Preston Garvey, second in command, currently at Sanctuary Hills just north of Concord. Ada, the robot who was with us before, is there, helping with defense. She seemed to be glad to have something productive to do with her time, but she does have an active personality matrix, so… Just, uh… I dunno, record a holotape, or write out a proposal, and send it along with a robot contingent. They can always carry a message back to you. Also, there’s Radio Freedom, which you can get on that Pip-Boy. At least, I think it’ll carry down here? You might need to set up an antenna on the surface to carry the signal.”

Speaking of which, we might want two more of the modified ones so that Garvey can more easily keep in contact with the Castle.

He dropped his chin slightly in agreement. “So, consider the idea and, if you’re interested, send Garvey a message.”

“I will do that.”

“Awesome. We need to get going, though. Plenty of work to be done.”

Bael helpfully opened a window of his own for them to view, to allow them to see a warehouse with satellites in it, those that had not yet been scheduled to be placed in orbit. Tsuna acquired one and placed it in an open spot in Verde’s labs so he could tinker. In the end, if it got destroyed, it wasn’t too big of a deal, though Tsuna sincerely hoped he could return it intact, because it wasn’t like he was acquiring it from a defect.

“Suppose we should deal with that radio message then,” he said with a sigh.

His family (Sin aside) all looked at him curiously.

“Another DLC,” he said. “Nuka-World. Let’s listen, shall we?” he said, then tuned his Pip-Boy to the station.

A chirpy voice chirped, “Hiya, kids! Remember, Nuka-World is only open for a few more weeks in October! Come down and see me and Cappy one last time before buckling down for the winter. Don’t forget to bring your empty bottle of Nuka-Cola to get $15 off at the gate! So hop aboard the Nuka-Express and come and see the whole Nuka family while you still can!”

Following that was the standard made-for-TV, low-voiced, and quick-paced, “The Nuka-Express is accessible through the Nuka-World Transit Center. Parking fees will apply. Prices subject to change due to end of season. Nuka-World, Nuka-Express, and the Nuka-Cola characters are all registered trademarks of the Nuka-Cola Corporation.”

When it started to repeat he switched the radio back off.

“So… What’s the deal, then?” Hayato asked, squinting suspiciously.

“It was an option for the less-than-benevolent player to be a raider, essentially,” he said, “though there was an option to be the good guy still. How much in the way of spoilers do you guys want?”

“An overview, at least,” Chikusa said.

“The basic situation is thus: three raider groups, the Disciples, the Operators, and the Pack, took over Nuka-World, which until that point was a trading base. There is an Overboss, named Colter, whose responsibility it is to keep the three groups from destroying each other, or something like that. They basically slapped bomb collars on the traders and said obey or die.

“People are lured in via the transit center, which allows you to board a still functioning monorail, and sent through what they call the Gauntlet. Their idea of entertainment. At the end, assuming you make it that far, is the big battle against the Overboss, with the gangs as the audience.”

“Fixed, one presumes,” Mukuro said.

He nodded. “Yeah. Our choices on going would be to take over as a proper Overboss—not happening—or wipe them out so the traders can be set free.”

“Well, we are a helpful organization,” Daemon said, echoing a long ago Daisuke of the Momokyokai. “I vote we go, and wipe out the defects. I’m assuming as raider gangs that they’re less than pleasant.”

“The Disciples like to use knives, get up close and personal when they kill their prey,” he said. “They’re psychotic. The Operators are in it for the caps—not sure why, because what the hell is there for them to spend them on—and they’re quite snobbish. The Pack are animal-oriented, in a sick way. Like, they convert gorillas and ghouls into chairs, as an example.”

Ken wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“The Operators can be appeased with caps, the Pack with showing better Alpha traits than the current leader, but the Disciples are just bottom of the barrel sick-minded. Doesn’t matter, they’re all defects. The other person involved is Porter Gage. He is kind of the consigliere to the Overboss. Apparently, leadership of the three gangs plus Gage got together and voted to arrange for Colter’s death, and to make whoever was lucky enough to do the deed into the new Overboss.

“And on a side note, given just how many DLC we’ve been pushed into, I’m going to assume that we’ll finish up with Far Harbor, which means a deeper look into Valentine’s past. He’ll come out of that most likely torn, but I’ll save that for then.”

“So, let’s send a message to Valentine to see if he wants to tag along to Nuka-World,” Sin said. “If not, no big deal. He’ll get his own adventure.”

Valentine, as it turned out, was not keen on going so far away from his base of operations for so long just to deal with some raiders, so Tsuna simply reminded him to send a message if he needed anything, then set about prepping for their new adventure.

They shifted over to Sunshine Tidings and headed west, along the overhead highway, passing by a chapel on the way. Satellite dishes—Fort Hagen, presumably—could be see in the distance to the left. It was not long before they saw a massive Nuka-Cola bottle statue rise up ahead of them, entire sections of it missing, showing the interior frame, or missing the paintjob.

The highway dropped at that point, having collapsed for whatever reason, much like many other sections of the highway. Beyond it were yet more statues and a broken billboard. To the left, through the trees, he could see hints of the Nuka-World Transit Center, so they veered that way, down to the surface road and the main gate of the installation.

The place consisted of twin parking garages with the gate in between, and a subway-style transit building leading down to the monorail platform. It was also infested with Gunners and their repurposed military robots, which were handily enough taken out.

There were more billboards, such as the one advertising Nuka-Cola Quantum, trash bins shaped like bottles, Nuka-World food carts, and far too many piles of garbage made up of cups and bowls, pizza slice trays and chip boats, and other detritus common to that type of boardwalk-style foods, as well as souvenir items such as Nuka-World-branded bowls, mugs, dolls, and magnets.

Off to one side were three Nuka-World-branded busses, some with skeletons, though thankfully none of them were child-sized.

On the leader of the Gunner group was a letter.

> #### Commander Kaylor,
> 
> Your orders are to investigate the Nuka-Cola Family Radio signal that appeared just recently. Our intel has determined it’s coming from the Nuka-World Transit Center, and we’ve reason to believe it may be linked to Sergeant Lanier’s missing recon team. Your primary objective is to secure the surrounding location and report back to me. You’ll then receive further instructions based on your status report.
> 
> #### \- Colonel Cypress

“This may sound controversial, but I want you guys to _Edge_ for this next bit. You’ll see why in just a minute.”

He got a number of frowns for that, but his family complied.

Inside the station was a man, propped up against the remains of a destroyed concrete column. He had one hand on his stomach, and his eyes were heavily bruised underneath, and quite a bit of his forehead on the left side. “Jesus. Shit. They’re gonna die,” the man muttered, seemingly unaware of him having entered. “God damn raiders. I should’ve known. Oh god, they’re gonna kill ’em… I know it. This is all my fault. All my fault.”

Tsuna obligingly trundled on over and played dumb to the con. “What happened to you?” he asked in seeming concern.

“Raiders, that’s what. Those bastards have my family. You—” He broke off to cough “—you gotta help me. Please.”

Tsuna absently noted that he was not wearing a bomb collar and said, “Tell me what happened.”

“They fooled us … big time. My family and I ran into some traders a while back. Told us they knew a safe settlement … at Nuka-World. But when we got there… Found out they were raiders the whole time, just stringing us along. I managed to escape, but my wife and son are still back there. I wanted to get some help and go back for them, but didn’t count on taking a bullet.”

Right, a bullet. With no evidence of a wound or even the expected blood gushing out from between his fingers.

And he’s wearing a white shirt.

“Let me help _you_ first. I have stimpacks.”

The man shook his head slightly. “No, no… I’ll be fine. Save it for my wife and kid, for Lisa and Cody.”

Nice touch, the names, makes the sale easier, I imagine.

Tsuna smiled serenely. “No, really,” he insisted. “I have enough. Take one.”

“Damn it,” the man said. He levered himself up with a sigh. “Look, you got me. I ain’t shot, okay? I just can’t do this anymore. The raiders back at Nuka-World put me up to this. They lure people in and they kill ’em for fun, and I’m done doing their dirty work. Let ’em find me and do what they want.”

“Why do you help them?” he asked.

“Besides not wanting to die, I’m not the only one they got stuck under their thumb. If I don’t pull through, their lives are at stake just like mine. I figure what’s some stranger’s life compared to those of the people I know and care about…”

“Well, I plan to forge ahead, so you can expect to not die.”

“Are you … you’re serious? Just be warned, this ain’t no walk in the park. Here, take this. It’s the password to the monorail control terminal. The fastest way to get to Nuka-World is to take the Nuka-Express, but I shut it down to help sell my story. Makes it more believable if I say I’m trying to keep the raiders at bay. Find the control terminal in the office to power it back up. And once you’re on your way, be careful.”

I notice that he does not give any hint of the Gauntlet. How kind of him.

Tsuna accepted the holotape and headed to the control room, automatically gathering scrap along the way. 

Anyone enterprising, knowing it’s a monorail, could have come with the proper supplies to just walk atop the tracks. Tie a hammock to it every so often to get some rest. The mouse avoiding the cheese so temptingly available.

The terminal had an option for [Power Grid Management], under which was [Activate Railway Power] and [Activate Auxiliary Power]. The first made the monorail usable again, and the second turned on the speakers, which blasted his ears with advertisements for various flavors of Nuka-Cola to drink and sections of the park to enjoy.

Inside the forward car he was able to pull the switch at the pilot’s console and set things in motion.

“Please stand clear of the doors,” a generic female announcer voice said, followed by, “Por favor, mantengase alejado de las puertas.”

While they were still in the tunnel leading through the mountains surrounding the large valley Nuka-World was in he wrote, All in favor of me sending a combo clone through the Gauntlet? Or at least parts of it.

Why only parts?

Because one section has fumes or vapors in the air that mess with your head, and will explode if you have to fire. The Gauntlet in the game isn’t exactly difficult, though you’re helped along by a fair amount of supplies scattered around. If you don’t charge ahead like an idiot you can avoid most every trap. Having the turret hacking holotape helps immensely in one section. A Stealth Boy clears the way for the final part prior to the battle at the end.

Well—

“Hello and on behalf of the Nuka-Cola Corporation,” the same announcer said as the car burst out of the tunnel and into daylight, “we’d like to welcome each and every one of you aboard the Nuka-Express Monorail.”

The highway was visible through the left-hand windows, whereas Nuka-World was visible to the right, behind wavy walls, with plenty of white buildings with red roofs and more of those Nuka-Cola bottle statues rising up, and stylized lollipops. As they turned slightly a ferris wheel came into view, along with one of the gates, leading into Kiddie Kingdom.

“For your own safety, please remain seated or utilize the provided handrails while the train is in motion. If you’ll direct your attention to the right side of the monorail, you can observe Nuka-World’s famous Fizztop Mountain.”

In the distance beyond was the tower in the Galactic Zone.

“Standing at over one hundred meters tall, Fizztop Mountain is the largest man-made structure in Nuka-World, and features the five-star Fizztop Grille. Coming up is the heart of Nuka-World—”

Complete with a tree festooned with caged skeletons.

“—Nuka-Town U.S.A., featuring the Cola-Cars arena, the Bradberton Amphitheater, and The Parlor Dinner Theater.”

About then static cut in and a new voice took over, a male voice.

“Well, look who learned the truth and still showed up. I guess Harvey played his cards right after all. I only got a minute so you better listen and listen good. The name’s Gage. Porter Gage. And our mutual friend Harvey only told you half the truth. You’re still heading straight into a death trap,” Gage said as the monorail glided past an extensive parking lot area, ruinous as it was.

“But if you somehow make it through alive, I have an interesting offer for you.”

Fast approaching was the monorail station.

“In the meantime, have fun and put on a good show. I’ll be watching.”

The static came back as they glided into the station. It was a mess, but then everything was a mess in the Commonwealth, so why would it be any different at Nuka-World?

Tsuna stepped off the monorail to hear, “Attention all my favorite undesirables out there. In case you haven’t noticed, looks like we got ourselves some fresh meat to run the Gauntlet!”

The system helpfully informed him he had started the taken for a ride quest.

After a minute of looting and nothing more he wrote, So, right. One assumes that was timed off seeing the monorail come out of the tunnel.

Presumably. Back to this Gauntlet. I vote you use the combo-clone for the especially dangerous parts, yes. But what of us?

Minimum of two of you stay with me. The rest can skip over to Nuka-Town and start tagging the raiders. They’re all over the area, plus inside their three compounds. If I remember right, the Pack is in the ampitheatre, the Operators are in The Parlor, and the Disciples are around the right side of Fizztop, in the interior of the mountain. There are more raiders roaming the wastes around the whole place, but that can be handled later.

I’m staying, of course, Sin wrote, as evidenced by the dark yellow of the text.

As will I, Mukuro wrote, as evidenced by the indigo (an indigo untainted by green or purple).

Awesome. Then I will head in and annoy the raiders by not dying. He wandered over to the enter sign and down the stairs beyond, which had gauntlet painted on the wall with an arrow pointing down.

Just outside the door at the bottom was a corpse (which he looted). Inside the room were multiple turrets, both free-standing and bubble-style. They were easy enough to destroy, even with some of them initially hidden by structural elements, such as resting on the back counter of the concession bar down there.

“Jesus, who’s torturing who?” the voice from upstairs complained. “Pick up the pace, vic!”

The lift at the end was out of order, but just to the right of it—

“Let’s get a move on. Doesn’t matter what you do. The Gauntlet gets ’em all in the end!”

—was, through a door, an upended pallet with an arrow painted on it, pointing to the right. As he passed through the doorway he heard, “Our new vic knows how to dodge some bullets. Good thing that’s not all we got in store for him.”

There were tripwires everywhere in the next section, hooked into welding torch traps, which would (presumably) ignite the oil on the floor, or gun emplacements. It did not hurt that Tsuna was perked up in stealth, and therefore could not trip a trap even if he tried, but he disarmed them all the same, if only for the scrap.

Next was up a wooden staircase and around the corner to the left where he was greeted with a pile of trash, tires, and broken metal beams upon which corpses were hung. Around the corner from that was a series of boards crossing a gap in the flooring. He had seen enough weak board traps already to avoid stepping on them directly, and instead hopped from pole support to support to get to the other side. Cheating with Earth Flames to decrease the effects of gravity was a given.

Next up were more tripwires, a grenade bouquet, and three tanks of flammable gas, a tripwire linked to a gun emplacement, and three red doors.

“It’s decision time. All doors lead to death, some just a little slower than others.”

He rolled his eyes, leaned on his intuition, and picked left. Around the corner he was presented with a staircase down and a view of a ton of radioactive materials barrels.

“Hope someone brought their Radaway, because our little vic is about to get roasted like a squirrel on a stick.”

A combo clone was created and sent in his place while Tsuna _Edged_ along behind it, shifting scrap away and directing the clone to acquire a rusty key, which was used on a red door farther along.

“Someone thinks he’s a real tough guy, eh? But the Gauntlet ain’t through with him yet.”

The other side of the Transit Station featured a collapsed floor at the end and a view through mesh fencing at Nuka-Town U.S.A. The painted arrow pointed down. It was not like there was anyplace else to go, unless he felt like flinging himself across the gap to cling to the mesh, then wriggle through a peeled-back part of it.

A door at the bottom led to a presumably employee-only area, though initially he was in a room lit only by an emergency light. The terminal there was used to hack the turrets he vaguely recalled were in the next area.

Through a door, down a short staircase, and he was staring at industrial shelving with a number of turrets waiting to make Swiss cheese of anyone unlucky enough to enter. At the very end, on a pile of metal crates, was one of those creepy monkey-with-cymbals dolls, which he shot the head off of, because that was the only sane response when faced with one.

The next area featured more raider décor (heads on pikes) and a series of fusion generators set in a maze, which he avoided by jumping up atop one and using them as walkways to get to the next door.

There’s obviously a trap here, but I’ll be damned if I can see it, aside from the pressure traps.

I think there are rats or something that pop out? I forget. I always bypass it in the game the way I’m doing now.

“Time for things to get dangerous.”

An access tunnel, complete with caved in end, freight trucks, and frag mines. The other side of the tunnel had a flatbed with recharge pods (most of which had robots in them), whirling teacups, and forklifts in addition to the mines. A side effect of shooting the mines saw several of the vehicles explode, but he was far enough back for it to not matter.

“Is this some kind of joke!? I knew we should have put turrets in there.”

Another flatbed held Nuka-Cola bottle statues, and fronted the “exit”, which was a watery pit with mirelurk eggs, a few support poles, and more weak boards. At the end was a red door, and to the left was a broken wall. Tsuna hopped from pole to pole, picked the lock on the door, and glided through. It would have made more sense as an additional layer to the trap to have the door open toward him, but no one ever said raiders were brilliant.

“What the hell? God damn vic. That door’s supposed to be boarded up.”

Why it mattered he didn’t know. There was only a single mirelurk down in the pit, and the eggs were easy enough to shoot from up top—most of them anyway. The broken wall led to an earthen ramp that exited out where he ended up anyway, through another broken wall.

The door he was to go through had a sign next to it: utility access 8-n. Tsuna disarmed the tension trigger in plain sight, the tripwire through the door, and several pressure traps, all connected to a series of suspended grenade bouquets (which he acquired).

Okay, this is the part I was talking about. We _Edge_ though while a clone handles shit.

The second the clone was through the door it slammed shut behind it and locked, and a gas was released into the air.

“Someone thinks he’s clever. Time for a little reality check. Let’s see if vic can kill the gas before the gas kills him.”

To the left and through a door was a terminal; Tsuna directed his clone to bash the radroaches that crawled out, then use the terminal to open a maglock door that should be the exit. It was, leading to a short flight of stairs and a door.

He sighed as the voice complained again about how slow he was being and dismissed the clone, headed up the next set of stairs and into a maintenance shed, which featured whirling teacups, Giddyup Buttercups, Cola-Cars cars, flying ant swarms, and comically oversized non-flying ants.

The next section he recognized by the mesh ceiling, cobbled together wooden walls, and the sign over head that said Cola-Cars. If he were stupid he would attempt to race through it to the end, getting shot at by kami knew how many raiders, and triggering countless tripwires (had he not been perked up the way he was) and pressure plates.

As it was, he simply went invisible and walked along at a leisurely pace. Even so, the voice had its say.

“God damn, look who’s in the home stretch! Time for a little audience participation!”

Raiders scurried around overhead, but as none of them could see him… Tsuna collected grenade bouquets along the way, because why not, disarmed traps, ignored the turret, and headed through the door at the end.

“Well I’ll be damned. You know what that sound means? Get your ass down to Cola-Cars as the main event’s about to begin.”

Up some U-shaped stairs and around brought him to a maglock door with an intercom next to it. To his left was a window showing the arena … and Colter, wearing a set of power armor.

“You got me wired up yet, Gage?”

“Yeah, boss.”

“Finally. Now, go shut off that damn alarm.”

“All right, I’m on it.”

“Hmph. Now where… Ah, there’s my next victim now. Heh. Don’t look like much. Here’s a quick run down of how this works. You go stock up, make yourself presentable, and then we’re gonna give these folks a show. A show where I decorate these walls here with your lovely brains. Thanks to this suit, I’m the only one that wins this fight. Period. Think you’re hot shit getting this far? Think again. All right, Gage. Let him through. Something tells me I’m really gonna enjoy this.”

What a simpleton.

The maglock door popped so he headed down the presented staircase—

“It’s almost time!” the voice said gleefully. “After a run like that, this ought to be the best slaughter yet! Remember, longest survival time against Colter still stands at one minute, thirty-seven seconds! The stands are filling up fast. Better hurry ’cause for losers, it’s standing room only.”

—and through a normal door, into a locker room. It was decorated with more raider shit, plus a lot of blood. An intercom was positioned on the wall opposite his entrance point, and as he stepped forward it activated.

“All right, listen the hell up if you want to make it out of this alive. I’ve only got a minute,” Gage said. “Find the intercom on the wall. I’ll make it quick.”

He sighed and went over to hit the button and ask, “Gage?”

“Yeah. I’m the guy that’s going to get you out of this alive, so listen up.”

“I’m listening.”

“My kinda guy. Look, you made it this far, you obviously got skill. But this fight coming up is rigged. You get me? Overboss Colter … his power armor’s set up to draw energy from the electric grid in the arena. Damn thing’s invincible. You name it, someone’s tried it—miniguns, grenades. Not a scratch. You get what I’m saying?”

“There’s obviously a way around it, or you wouldn’t be talking to me.” At least, a way that didn’t involve him exploding Colter’s head or liquefying his brains.

“You want to win? I stashed a weapon in the lockers. Get it.”

His handy quest marker led him right to it, a Thirst Zapper. Back at the intercom he said, “A squirt gun, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what it looks like. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“You want me to use water to short out the electrical, yes?”

“Yep. It’s the perfect weapon. Once the water hits Colter’s electrically-charged power armor, the circuits are gonna short out. It’ll kill his defenses, but you’ll only have so much time to do some damage before they recharge. You take him out, I promise you, it’ll be worth every minute spent in this Gauntlet.”

Tsuna smiled serenely, not that Gage could see it. “Staying hydrated is half the battle, right?”

“He ain’t got a choice. All right, it’s time. I’ll open the door. See you on the other side.”

He headed off to the next maglock door and heard, “All right!” from Colter. “Disciples! Are you ready for blood?”

Chanting started up.

“And the Pack! Are you ready for things to get wild?”

More chanting and foot stomping.

“Operators! Are you ready to see me notch another kill?”

Some half-hearted applause was added to the mix. Clearly, the Operators found the whole death match thing to be boring or too low-brow for their high-class selves.

“And you … are you ready to die?” The maglock released as Colter shouted, “Let’s do this!”

Admittedly, Tsuna felt slightly silly attacking with a squirt gun, but it was effective in temporarily shorting out the guy’s advantages. A quick swap to his trusty 10mm with armor piercing rounds and he was happily shooting away. A few rounds of that and Colter was toast.

“Holy shit! I don’t … I don’t even know what this means! Colter, man, he’s out!”

If he remembered correctly, the voice was RedEye, the DJ for Raider Radio or whatever they were calling it. Maybe he hadn’t been in on the plan? He shrugged and wandered over to the corpse so he could loot, then ambled over to the booth Gage was lurking in.

“Gage, what the hell just happened?”

“You saw it,” Gage said. “We all saw it! Colter’s dead. We’ve got ourselves a new Overboss.”

“This guy?” one of the watchers said. “Are you sure, Gage?”

“You better know what the hell you’re doing,” a woman said in a snobby, affected voice.

“Hey, we talked about this!” Gage said into his microphone. The booth he was in was protected by a maglock door and a standing terminal was just visible through the (presumably) bullet-proof glass. “He survived the Gauntlet. He was smart enough to take my advice, and strong enough to kill Colter. He’s what we need. So how about we show some respect for our new leader, eh?”

“He’ll get respect when he earns respect,” another affected female voice drawled.

“Amen.”

“All right, all right,” Gage said. “Now, get the hell out of here. I’ll show the boss around.”

All the cardboard cutouts turned away and began the exodus. There was only mesh fencing on the lower level separating him from them, and nothing on the upper level. All a normal person would have needed was a jetpack, or perhaps high agility and decent climbing skills.

True, that would have meant climbing a fence to be faced with dozens of raiders, but…

“What did I tell you,” Gage said through the glass. “Worked like a charm.” Aside from the odd metal chest rig he was wearing over his stained and bloodied tank top, and the matching industrial eye patch, Gage was decked out in makeup that rather resembled the Joker in some respects. He had a slasher smile painted onto his face.

He nodded. “Death by squirt gun. It’d be lovely on his tombstone.” Not that he expected anyone to actually do more than chuck the body in a ditch (assuming they didn’t eat it).

“Tell me about it,” Gage said. “I wish I had a better look at his face when the suit shorted out.” Then he raised his hands to either side briefly. “I get that you have no idea what’s going on, and everything is coming at you real fast, but you need to listen. Taking out Colter wasn’t just a last minute decision. It was something a few of us here have been working on for a while. Now that he’s actually gone, we’ve got ourselves a vacancy in the Overboss department. And guess what … you just got the job. All I’m asking is that you trust me on this and give it a shot. I swear it’ll be worth it.”

“Well, let’s get on with it, then.”

“There are three raider gangs that run the show at Nuka-World—the Disciples, the Operators, and the Pack. And yeah, if the names didn’t give it away, these ain’t your typical raiders. These morons don’t exactly play nice with each other. Thanks to Colter, this place is a powder keg just waiting to blow sky high. One wrong move, and we’re going to have a bloodbath on our hands.”

I’m pretty sure he meant “right move”, since there will be a bloodbath.

“I think you have what it takes to turn things around and keep these gangs from tearing each other apart.”

These people must be desperate to gamble it all on a random stranger who managed to get to this point.

“Then let’s get started,” he said with a serene smile.

“I’m sure you got a lot of questions, but this ain’t the place. Meet me at the Overboss’—your new quarters, the restaurant on top of good old Fizztop Mountain. We can talk there. Just let me get that door for you…” Gage moved over to the terminal and started tapping away. The maglock released a moment later, and Gage sauntered off.

Tsuna wandered out himself and paused next to a chair. And here we have it, folks, a fine example of Pack décor. A gorilla chair. The thing looked like someone had shoved an armchair through a gorilla’s body. How it could possibly be comfortable…

We already found a ghoul chair, Ken commented. I’ve never been so disgusted. The ghoul was still moving, for fuck’s sake.

The Pack is really fucked in the head.

The first thing he saw once he exited the arena was a massive gate with a Nuka-World sign. To either side were narrow buildings, and all the upper windows glowed an ominous red.

Piles of trash and debris were everywhere, not to mention roughly a billion bottles of various flavors of Nuka-Cola.

How are you guys doing with the tagging?

Not done yet, but we’re close. Things got a little wonky when you hit the end of the Gauntlet and people started moving around to go watch.

Well, I’m going to slooowly wander around eyeing things up, and probably check the market. There should be that trader in there who suggests I wipe the raiders out, so…

All right, darling. We’ll let you know when we’re done, though I expect we’ll head to storage for a bit anyway, before we push to remove the defects.

He nodded and carried on, but paused to listen in on a conversation between a Pack member and a Disciple.

“So let me get this straight. Some scavver makes it through the Gauntlet, takes out the boss, and now we’re all supposed to follow him?” Pack said disbelievingly. “How does that work? He ain’t even a raider!”

“All I know is, Gage was in the Mountain the other day and he had a real long talk with Nisha … in private.”

Curious… Nisha, huh? I feel like I’ve heard that name before, he commented.

“Gage? The hell with that guy. What’s he ever done around here?”

“Hey, I’m just telling you what I saw. You want to know more about what’s going on, then maybe you should ask Mason.”

“What do I look like, an idiot?”

He shook his head and moved on. Clearly, they either had not been at the fight or were oblivious enough to just not notice him listening in.


	14. λ34: 14: Nuka-World, Commonwealth

## λ34  
14: Nuka-World, Commonwealth  
“A colourful junkyard is still a junkyard.”

Tsuna wandered into an infirmary area and found a holotape to listen to.

> “This is Del Walsh. I’m a paramedic at Nuka-World’s Infirmary Center. This report is dated July 14th, 2077. I’d like to officially go on record to express my dismay at the current safety conditions of some of Nuka-World’s rides. I have just completed treating a patient who suffered multiple cuts and bruises after riding Mad Mulligan’s Mine Cart Ride.
> 
> “Now in the last year alone, I’ve treated: seven broken bones, nine major lacerations, seventy-eight muscle injuries, and one hundred sixty-six minor lacerations all due to ride malfunctions. This does not include the two fatalities that have occurred … both of which have been in the last six months.
> 
> “Listen, I understand that Project Cobalt has diverted some of our park’s maintenance and security personnel, and how important it is to the war effort. But we can’t ignore the fact that safety has fallen off the radar at Nuka-World, and something must be done about it immediately. Since my supervisors have chosen to ignore my concerns, I’ll be forwarding this recording to Mr Bradberton’s office personally.”

That poor, deluded fool. He clearly was not at all savvy to the sheer level of psychosis present in this universe.

Tsuna found it hilarious that Cappy’s Cafe had a mere two single water closets. The very idea of a park facility having so little in the way of toilets was just insane. He scored a recipe for Nuka-Cide in the kitchen, then trundled on out again.

On his way to the market he ran into N.I.R.A (a walking, talking, Nuka-Cola bottle) and was greeted with a perky, “Well hello there, young man! Welcome to Nuka-World! I’m N.I.R.A, your friendly Nuka-World Informational Robotic Assistant. Is this your first visit to Nuka-World?”

“I haven’t been a young man for a long time.”

“You know, a lot of people say just the same thing. The way we see it, everyone who steps through that gate is a child at heart. Now, before you set off on your grand Nuka-adventure, let me tell you about—error. system malfunction.

In a completely different voice N.I.R.A. said, “Are you finished wasting my time, you filthy, low-life scavver? Cause I’m getting bored, and when I get bored, I get violent!”

“Malfunctioning, huh?”

“The only malfunction I’ve got is this idiot scavver standing in front of me. Maybe I should solve my little problem. Permanently. system restored. Oops! Sorry about that little glitch. Data logs indicate unauthorized tampering with my personality subroutines. Please contact a Nuka-World maintenance technician as soon as possible.

“Now don’t you worry. Even despite that unfortunate incident, I’m still operating at well over sixty-one percent normal capacity. As I was about to say, I have a little tip to help you make the most of your exciting Nuka-World adventure. Be sure to collect Park Medallions as you enjoy our amazing rides and attractions! There’s a special reward if you collect a full set!”

Yeah, a fucking bottle of Nuka-Cola. Yay, he wrote as his quest log updated to show he could find the medallions at the Ferris Wheel, Mad Mulligan’s Mine Cart Ride, Nuka-Galaxy, the Treehouse, Nuka-Racers, and the World of Refreshment.

“If you have any questions about Nuka-World, I’d be delighted to answer them!”

“No questions for now.”

“In that case, thanks for—error. system malfunction. You’re still here? Get the hell out of my face, you miserable, dung-sniffing dirt-scratcher. system restored. Have a great day!”

Having had enough weirdness for the moment, he beelined for the market. Inside he found what he recognized as a star core on one of the tables—no one said a word about him walking in and looting the place bare or even looked at him askance—and glanced around trying to spot what’s-her-face.

“Looking to chill out, or get fired up?” a man drawled lazily. “Either way, I got what you need.”

“Wasteland’s a dangerous place. Arm yourself with a quality weapon, right here,” another one said half-heartedly.

“Need supplies?” a young woman said listlessly. “Got a little of everything here. Come take a look!”

He found it odd that there were outsider traders present, and that all of them wore bandannas over their lower faces (for some reason). They had to have come in via the highway on the other side. But, he supposed that even raiders needed outsiders to refresh stock via trade, so he shrugged and continued scanning for what’s-her-face.

He spotted a brunette with a clipboard in her hand, medical supplies and equipment next to her, and headed her way.

“Oh! Uh… Hello, boss!”

Clearly word got around quickly.

“Congratulations on taking out Colter. I’m, uh … sure you’ll do great.”

“We’ll see.”

“Sorry I’m so nervous. I didn’t mean any disrespect, boss. I just don’t know where I stand with you and I … I don’t want to end up pissin’ you off. That, and, well… I’d be lying if I said we weren’t all wondering how you plan to run the place. I mean, this is your show now. You can do anything you want. You can run Nuka-World just like Colter … business as usual. Or… You could, uh, well, you know … get rid of the raiders if you don’t exactly agree with how they’re running the place.”

She was ballsy, he had to give her that. Then again, she might figure she had nothing to lose.

“We’ll see,” he repeated. He wasn’t stupid enough to agree to do so openly. The game was one thing, but this version of events—she could be a test.

“The gangs that call this place home are already at each other’s throats,” she confided. “Now, you could risk your own neck and try to keep them from tearing each other apart, or you could do the right thing and put them in the ground.”

It was a curious aspect to Tsuna’s mind that the second someone used the phrase “do the right thing” he immediately got the urge to do the “wrong” thing. Probably too many meddling and deceitful old men in his lives.

Or we could exacerbate their issues and literally watch them tear each other apart.

Too much of a risk of innocents being killed, he wrote back. An amusing thought, though.

“When it’s all said and done, you’re still running this place from your fancy house on the mountain over there. Except then, you wouldn’t have to sleep with a gun under your pillow.”

“We’ll see. What do you have for sale?”

“…Here’s my current stock.”

Tsuna purchased a shipment of antiseptic from her, nodded, and wandered off again, this time toward Fizztop. As he approached the arches separating the “main street” of “town” from the open area before the “mountain” he saw a young woman dressed in a jeans and a green t-shirt, speaking to one of the raiders.

“You haven’t seen anything that’s, um, out of the ordinary around here, have you? Maybe something hidden? Shaped like a bottlecap?”

“I thought we told you to keep your ass in the market. If you’re looking for something, you can find it there like everyone else.”

“I’m not here for the market! I didn’t travel hundreds of miles to go shopping.”

“I don’t suppose you came here for a bullet in the brain, either, so if you want to live, I suggest you stay where you belong.”

“Oh you guys are real friendly, aren’t you.”

Is she suicidal?

Green-T-shirt started examining the stonework nearby and muttering to herself. “It’s got to be around here somewhere…”

He approached and said, “Hey.”

“Nuka-World!” she enthused as she turned to face him; she was wearing bottlecap glasses and the front of her t-shirt had Cappy and Bottle on it. “I’ve always dreamed of coming here, and now I’ve finally made it. This place is amazing, don’t you think?”

“A colourful junkyard is still a junkyard.”

“A junkyard? Are you crazy? Just look around! You can just imagine the children, smiling and happy, all drinking Nuka-Cola and having the time of their lives. It must have been magical. The name’s Sierra Petrovita. I traveled all the way from the Capital Wasteland to visit this place. Maybe you’ve heard about my Nuka-Cola Museum?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Oh.” Sierra looked down for a moment. “Well, I’d stay and chat some more, but I’ve got to get back to my search.”

Vote? Do we help her or not?

She’s an idiot, but that doesn’t mean she deserves a bullet to the brain. I vote to help, if only to keep her from getting killed.

Yeah, why not.

Sure.

“I could help you out, if you want,” he said.

“Oh, no thanks. I kind of need to keep it a secret. It’s really important to me and I just don’t know you very well.”

The serene smile came back, as well as some mind-altering Mist. His charisma was more than high enough to handle it, but he preferred to go with what he knew worked. “I’ll keep your secret.”

“Weeeell, okay. To be honest, I’m so excited I can barely keep it in! It’ll be a relief to finally tell someone. I guess you could think of me as the world’s biggest Nuka-Cola fan.”

Sheffield might disagree.

“I’ve been obsessed with the stuff since the first time I tasted it.”

Sheffield?

“I collect all the merchandise I can find, like these awesome Cappy Glasses I’m wearing.”

Dude in Diamond City. The doc made him swear off booze, so now he’s obsessed with Nuka-Cola.

“But these aren’t just ordinary sunglasses. They were part of a really cool contest that started just before the war. The winner of the contest would get to meet the famous John-Caleb Bradberton himself!”

“Bradberton… I remember that name. He was the guy who invented Nuka-Cola, right?”

“Exactly! Wow, not a lot of people know that. At least not anymore. So, to win the contest you had to find the ten images of Cappy, the Nuka-Cola mascot, hidden throughout the park. Each image has part of a code or something, and only these special glasses can reveal it.

“Now I know what you’re thinking… Bradberton’s long gone, who cares about the contest anymore? Well, I’m betting that somewhere in his office is the original Nuka-Cola formula! That formula was one of the great mysteries of the soft drink world, and it would be the crown jewel of my collection. If you can help me get it, I promise it’d be worth your while.”

“Sure, why not. Might learn more about the park while I’m at it.”

“Good point! You’re new here, after all. You should learn everything you can. I’ll give you my Cappy Glasses and this old contest holotape. It’s got hints about where to find the Hidden Cappys. Just track down the clues and then come back to me once you’ve found them all. I’m an expert on all things Nuka-Cola, so I’m sure I’ll be able to decipher it. Happy hunting!” she said as he whipped the glasses off and handed them over, along with the promised holotape.

We finished tagging everyone we could.

Awesome. Let me vanish around a corner and we’ll meet in storage.

“All right,” Daemon said. “We have tagged every last raider we could find, from all three groups. Helpfully, the leadership and higher level minions for each are in their headquarters, which makes things simpler.”

He nodded. “We won’t be catching all of them asleep, as the chems tend to make them too high to sleep. Turning them against each other would be poetic in a way, but we’d have to be exceptionally careful to protect any visitors and the enslaved traders. I’m not fond of that idea, really.”

“Pump the HQs with sleeping gas, shift them all out to a prepared location, and deal with them there?” Hayato suggested.

He hummed. Now where could they craft an inescapable pit situation to shift all the defects to? As it was, with so many raiders to handle, it _would_ be better to shift them, alive or dead, to a new location, just so all those corpses weren’t cluttering up Nuka-World. “I think I have an idea…”

“Do tell,” Xeul said smoothly.

“There’s a spot in the Glowing Sea, a military bunker. I think it was used for launching warheads? Something. We could go visit, check it out, and if it’s suitable, well, we could turn it into a tomb, basically. In the game there were a lot of feral ghouls, so all we’d need to do is enter so we could open a window, then block off both entrances. Shift them all in, minus their weapons, leave them to die.”

“What did it look like outside, do you remember?” Chikusa asked.

“Multiple surface pieces,” he said slowly, “though I think some of those were the tops of launch tubes? The main entrance was a concrete pyramid and—”

“We know it,” Xeul said. “We didn’t go in, but we did see a pyramid when we were hunting down Virgil’s cave.”

“Saves a long walk through radiation, radscorpions, and other such thrills. The other entrance was a sorta tower at the back, a cargo lift, almost, which really doesn’t make sense now that I think about it. Let’s head on over, figure out the best way to block the entrances, and then come back here to plan the shift.

Sentinel Site Prescott was just south of a bend in the highway, and south of an almost completely buried manufactory (that radscorpions like to hang out at). The main entrance looked like a rather squat pyramid. A bit of distance from that were the four squarish columns (two were larger, taller, and were topped with arched skylights with broken glass), and a fair distance beyond that was the freight elevator—or whatever it was.

The external doors for the lift were already barred from the inside, but that still meant a raider could exit that way should they live so long. That being so, Tsuna harmonized through the doors so he could get a window on the interior.

It was then loaded up with rubble and freshly-mixed cement after metal spikes were wedged in under the lift platform to prevent it from being called down. At the other end, next to the pyramid, were multiple bombs in metal cages (presumably for ease of stacking, as they all looked like nukes).

Just inside the entrance was a bank vault-style security door which he opened to reveal a large square room ringed with mesh walkways and staircases, as well as more at the center, supported by massive beam towers. An alarm was sounding and warning lights flashing. If he remembered rightly, some Children of Atom had found the place and tried to launch bombs, but ultimately failed (it helped to have bombs actually on a launch platform, as a start) and fell to the ghouls.

“I think we’ve seen enough. We just need to block off this side,” he said, peering down at the far away floor, a good five levels or so down.

“So, close the security door and fill up that small entryway,” Ken said.

He nodded. “Let’s do.”

They detoured through the decontamination room in his storage, took showers, and had a decent meal before they readdressed the issue of the Nuka-World raiders. They started with the Disciples, as they were the sickest of the three. In concert, they shot each of the raiders with darts loaded with something to knock them out for a short time, shifted away all weapons, then shifted each person to their new home and tomb.

Shadow clones were employed to maintain the illusion that the Disciples were all just fine. The Pack was next, along with their animals, and shadow clones were produced to hide their disappearance. Then, the Operators, and finally, Porter Gage.

Tsuna then sent a few shadow clones throughout Nuka-Town calling for meetings of the various gangs due to the new Overboss, to which the raiders responded by heading off to their respective HQs, where they were also knocked out and shifted away.

It would be a mystery what had happened, when no bodies were ever found.

“So, the marketplace,” Sin said. “Gonna have to handle that slightly differently. There’s not even ten raiders in there, so how about we make combo clones to swap them for, deal with that bunch, then we wander in to the marketplace, ‘shoot’ the clones and fake their deaths, then drag the bodies off. Quick, clean, and the enslaved actually get to see us putting down their tormentors.”

“Madison or Mackenzie or whatever her name is would be happy,” Ken said. “Dunno about those bomb collars, though. Switch them while they sleep for chokers on mannequins?”

“I imagine the raiders didn’t use ones that could be removed,” Hayato said with a scowl, “as why would they want to?”

“They can’t have an endless supply,” Mukuro pointed out. They could cut off a head to get it removed, but that doesn’t cover putting it on someone new.”

“…Good point. And we already shifted all the leadership. They might have had keys or something to open them up.”

Tsuna shrugged. “We go with the switching spell, then comb this place over hard, shifting out as much scrap as possible. We fucked up. Let’s let it go, work around it, and move on.”

“And after that, the parks?” Sin asked, his expression saying he didn’t believe that.

“Yeah, no. The outskirts first. I seem to recall a Gunner outpost around here someone, a homestead, a single guy just chilling, and what came across as a riff on Scientology.”

“Say what now?” Ken said.

“The Hubologists. Your usual whackjobs, though in this instance, a fairly benign form of it. There’s also the power plant to get up and running, the town of Bradberton where something we’ll want awaits, and … a few other oddities. That plus any raiders who were off tussling with the local hostiles. Expect the usual sorts, plus the ones ‘native’ to this area, such as those ants. …My beloved Mists, if you would like to script out a play for the benefit of the innocents…?”

His twins and Mukuro nodded and went into a huddle.

“Boss… I … I can’t believe it,” Madison or Mackenzie or whatever her name was said. “You killed the raiders. All of them. I have to ask … why?”

I’m gonna chalk that up to shock and disbelief, and not assume this chick is suddenly stupid.

Tsuna’s brow went up at her as if to say, “Really?” Verbally he said, “Raiders steal and kill without remorse, without a care for who their targets are. In fact, they seem to think the more innocent you are the better the target you make. They were defects, so they were dealt with.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she replied, her gaze wandering off briefly to the other members of Samsara dragging the “corpses” off. “If you ask me, they’ve had it coming for a long time. I’ve thought about this day for a long time. Dreamed about it, really, though I never thought I’d see that dream come true. Now that it has, I’m left with a question that I don’t know the answer to: What happens next?”

“Freedom, such as it is.”

“Freedom… I never appreciated that word as much as I do right now. You know, I think we should keep this market open. Bring it back to what it used to be, a place where everyone feels welcome. Before you go, there’s one last thing I need to say. Thank you. Sincerely, from all of us. Thank you. Wherever the road takes you, know that you’ll always be welcomed back here in Nuka-World.”

“On a side note, expect to see a lot of turrets go up shortly. There simply aren’t enough of you to adequately protect yourselves and Nuka-Town. It should help give you all some peace of mind.”

“I… Thank you, again,” she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to figure out a way to safely remove these collars.”

completed: open season

He nodded and wandered off after his family. They went to the Fizztop Grille for the time being, which elicited any number of disgusted looks at the filth, and settled in for a discussion.

“Maybe to encourage them to sleep tonight, we start putting up turrets now?” Hayato said. “Well, and some Mist.”

“Didn’t see any places where they’d bed down, but there must be something,” Chikusa said.

“How kind do we want to be?” Mukuro asked. “Do we open up some of those boarded up side buildings and make little apartments for them in addition to all the turrets we’ll place on the walls and at the entrances?”

“Either that or we build better structures in the marketplace itself, like little bedrooms up above each stall,” Ken said.

“That’d be much more difficult to explain and it wouldn’t cover everyone,” Xeul said. “If we open up those buildings we could work mostly unseen.”

“Or Heul harmonizes through the boards covering the doorways or a wall, and we absolutely work unseen, and only then open each one up. Or we make a bunch of face-changed combo clones and have them haul in beds and shit, like they’re coming from the outside. Might cut down any questions enough that we won’t need to mind-fuck them to be incurious.”

“We could still update the marketplace while they were sleeping in their new quarters,” Daemon said. “Though I suppose a hotel wouldn’t go amiss if this becomes a proper trading hub again, though how it can be much of a hub when it’s almost entirely enclosed by mountains…”

Tsuna listened some more and eventually came to a decision. “Yes to the clone delivery men, and opening the side buildings. Even yes to updating the marketplace a bit. We treat it like a Minutemen settlement and give them the basics to survive. Beds, hydroponics, water, and defense. The majority of the scrapping can come later, and possibly not by us.”

“The famiglie?” Daemon asked.

“Possibly. In the game, the player could use the local Red Rocket as a settlement, so there’s no reason we can’t do the same. We get with the council to see if they want to take advantage of the opportunity. If not, then a regular settlement with plenty of crops and purified water, and possibly a beacon, so the Minutemen have a foothold here. If yes, it’s a base for scrapping operations that doesn’t directly impact the traders here. For the moment, though, let’s go get cleaned up, have a nice meal, and then we can see about those side buildings.”

The side buildings were tiny inside, but that was expected of what were essentially shells intended to house a small shop selling insanely overpriced souvenirs, food, and drink. They were, however, excellent to toss in a few beds each so that the locals could sleep without being wet on. Debris and detritus were shifted out, the odd cleaning spell tossed around to make things less icky, and the beds placed, along with storage for personal effects, food, and water.

Another crew of clones was busy placing turrets everywhere applicable, much to the obvious relief of the locals.

The Cola-Cars arena was gutted, the roof removed and replaced with greenhouse roofing, and a bunch of hydroponics were put in place. The locals would simply have to designate one of their own (or several) to see to the crops, as the condenser/purifiers they put in there mostly took care of themselves. They also tossed in some rain collectors and storage tanks, in case it got very dry and they had to manually load the purifiers.

Madison or Mackenzie or whatever her name was was duly updated on the changes (and Tsuna suffered another round of thank yous), and informed that they were heading out to investigate the outskirts and the parks.

That night, when the locals were sleeping, they did a round of switching spells to get those collars off, then sent the collars themselves to Verde to investigate, with a warning that they were explosive. How they vanished would have to remain a mystery to the locals. The marketplace was made a little nicer (and more cleaning spells tossed around), which included one of Verde’s water condenser/purifier deals.

They also picked up the first part of the Hidden Cappy code on wall to the left of Fizztop (while facing it), near the restrooms. Tsuna held the Cappy Glasses up to his eyes long enough to get “G” for the first letter.

Hopefully, Sierra would stay put where it was relatively safe, and not go wandering off. At least she had had the sense to not take on the adventure herself, though just in getting from the Capital Wasteland to Nuka-World showed either a lot of luck or very good stealth skills on her part.

“So that’s the situation. Do you guys want a base there for scrapping runs and experience for your men, or…? It’s a huge area,” he said, indicating the park maps he had handed around earlier. “That doesn’t show the outskirts, and there’s quite a bit of territory. If not, we’ll set it up as a Minutemen settlement and let Garvey know so he can send some people that way.”

The Skies all exchanged looks, then Xanxus said, “We already got a shit ton of scrapping to do over this way, clearing up nuclear waste, never mind policing the place. I don’t think we have the people to take that much on.”

“I, however,” Verde said, as he had wandered by at an opportune moment and decided to sit in, “could use that space. Those collars you sent? Really too dangerous to have here. And some of my work… With the kind of space you’re talking about, I could have a proper lab complex set up, and not be placing people in danger with experiments.”

Tsuna eyed each of the Skies, then nodded. “If you all are fine with that, that’s what we’ll do. I might still designate the Red Rocket there as a Minutemen settlement if Garvey is interested in a foothold there, but… Otherwise, we’ll pick out a nice stretch of land, maybe throw up some simple markers and ropes to set the base plot, and get to work on building a complex. Though … after we’ve finished up a few tasks.”

“Still got those parks to clear,” Sin said.

He nodded. “Verde, if you want to come up with some kind of basic floor plan, that’d be good. When we’re ready, we can figure out exactly where to build the place.”

“Certainly.”

“In that case… Is there anything Samsara needs to help with, or…?”

The Skies shook their heads. “We’re good right now,” Dino said.

“Garvey,” he greeted, somewhat reluctantly. “We have an opportunity at hand, and I wanted your thoughts on it.”

“Oh? How can I help, General?”

“We’ve just recently been to Nuka-World, cleared out a whole lot of raiders, and there’s a spot there outside the parks that might be nice for a settlement. Thing is, it’s a bit distant and somewhat isolated, though there is a trading community at Nuka-Town we just freed from slavery. Should we lay the groundwork for a Minutemen settlement or not? What do you think?”

“Uh… Well, we have been getting an influx of settlers recently. Maybe it would be a good idea. But how would they get there?”

“The monorail is still functioning between the Nuka-World Transit Center southwest of Sunshine Tidings and the park area, though we should probably dismantle the Gauntlet.”

“In that case, I’d say yes. Get something set up and we can start pointing people that way. I assume it’d have the usual…”

He nodded. “Beds, shelter, hydroponics, defense. All right. Once we get something set up, we’ll get a message to you—and a map of some kind—so you can send people that way. Didn’t much see the point in using a beacon when it’s as isolated as it is. Expect a message.” He flashed a victory sign and trundled off before Garvey could rope him into something not of his choosing.

“I’ve been thinking,” Xeul said as they ripped the Gauntlet to shreds and shifted the scrap to storage for recycling. “Maybe the Red Rocket you spoke of is not such a good idea. Maybe something closer to the station? That spot over there to the east? Or maybe that little town area back behind us?”

“Yeah. They’d be a lot closer to the Nuka-Town trading post and the monorail,” he said. “Once we’re done with this we can go get that one holotape that _should_ be in Bradberton. Hopefully, anyway. It’ll help us later on, in Kiddie Kingdom. Should probably also head over to the power plant and turn the power on, as there’s a spot in the bottling plant that’ll need power for us to access, unless I just harmonize my way through.”

“So after those two, which park first?” Chikusa asked.

He shrugged. “World of Refreshment, I suppose, since that’s fairly simple, then Kiddie Kingdom, though we should probably handle the Gunners first, get that out of the way.”

The power plant was simple. Shifting or flying got them to the roof, where all he had to do was push a button. Fireworks went off all over the park, which was nice, he supposed.

Bradberton, on the other side of the “valley” and to the north, had a lot of ghouls, but there was only one he was interested in: Rachel. She was found (dead) in a ruined house, and had left behind a holotape. Minus the growls it said:

> “I think this is it. I can’t go any further. I can feel it taking me. …No, gotta keep it together a little longer. Oswald, I’m sorry. I’ve looked everywhere I could think, but there’s no cure. What towns and outposts I could find said that we ghouls just go feral eventually—”

Which boded badly for someone like Hancock, if it was true.

> “—and there’s nothing to be done. Maybe it was the misters. Held out … as long as I can. I know this isn’t what you’d want, but… I can’t stand the thought of mindlessly attacking everyone around me, so I’ve decided to end it on my terms. I don’t know why it hasn’t affected you the same, but if you’ve still held it together… I want you to move on. Leave Nuka-World. You can still make a life out there. It’s not all as bad as we thought. I love you, Oz.”

“So what’s the story?” Hayato asked.

“When the bombs dropped, the cast and crew at Kiddie Kingdom took refuge, but they were irradiated badly enough that many died and the rest turned ghoul. One by one they went feral, aside from Oswald and Rachel. She left to go find a cure, fruitlessly.

“Oswald should still be there, using his mutation powers to ‘revive’ the ferals and use them plus the radiation misters to keep people out, and waiting for his lover to come home. It won’t be a fun time for us. Tons of radiation we’ll have to counteract. A fun house we’ll need to go through, and which will more than likely cause nausea.”

“Joy,” Ken deadpanned.

“Now that we have this, let’s go investigate the bottling plant.”

Mirelurks, mirelurks, and more mirelurks. Except, they were Nukalurks due to the unique mutation brought on by the compounds in Nuka-Cola Quantum that gave it such a pleasing blue glow. Strontium-90 or something. As such, the Nukalurks also had a pleasant blue glow, which was nifty.

The outside of the plant (and technically, the World of Refreshment) was heavily infested with them and all of them had to be killed to satisfy the Great Shuffler’s whims, just like in the game, as well as clearing the interior of both.

There were also approximately a bajillion eggs to be shot or collected, though the idea of eating a fertilized egg made Tsuna shudder something fierce. Thankfully he didn’t have to and never would. He could have taken his family inside via one of the other entrances, but decided to do things properly and enter via the ride entrance (the exit was blocked by debris), which meant wading in a shallow river of heavily-befouled Nuka-Cola Quantum.

It also meant picking up a park medallion at the entrance on the way by.

The first thing they saw on entering were backlit billboards and a mess of eggs.

“Welcome to the Nuka-Cola World of Refreshment, now featuring a river of Nuka-Cola Quantum!” a cheerful female voice said.

More Nuka-Cola bottle statues were here and there, tilted and acting as fountains. The odd Nukalurk roamed around, also waiting to be shot. Boats littered the sides of the river, complete with skeletons draped over the seats, which just added to the wholesome, family-friendly atmosphere.

A short way down, to their right, was a display of a scientist type standing at a chemistry station.

“Nuka-Cola began its journey in the year 2042 when our founder, John-Caleb Bradberton, was a budding chemist,” the announcer cheerfully informed them as the animatronic pretended to pour something from one flask into another.

The door at the back of the set led to access tunnels, but he ignored that for the moment. Next up was a small town “street” with downscaled homes and such to either side. Similarly downscaled shopping carts and Nuka-Cola machines helped to complete the picture.

“It took almost two years to perfect the formula, but in late 2044, Mr Bradberton was finally successful and Nuka-Cola was born!”

Next on the tour was an old west display, with cacti, saloons, animatronics dressed in quaint outfits with stetsons, chaps, and bolo ties, and another Hidden Cappy (“R”).

“Out west, they enjoy regional favorites such as the classy Nuka-Cola Quartz and refreshingly patriotic Nuka-Cola Victory.”

Around the corner, before the next ride area, was a blown out concrete wall, revealing more eggs and access to the employee-only areas.

“While out here on the east coast, folks delight in the refreshment of an ice-cold Nuka-Grape, Nuka-Orange, or Nuka-Cherry.”

That, of course, was in a more traditional setting as seen in the Commonwealth, with that odd 50s style of architecture. Whether they meant to imply that people out west were all hicks, whereas east coasters were sophisticated, he couldn’t be sure.

Out of boredom, Ken began to toss grenades ahead to explode all those damn eggs, rather than shooting each one individually.

“I have been programmed not to fail,” a clearly mechanical female voice announced.

“Oh, right,” he said. “The Gunners were in here at one point. That was probably an Assaultron.”

Sure enough, one came barreling around the corner to attack, though for some reason it went after a Nukalurk and not any of them. There were two more around that corner, battling more Nukalurks.

“Allocating additional power to sensors. The hostile will be detected and eliminated,” was heard just as they pulled even with the next set.

“Hey, Mom and Dad, are you ready for a night on the town?” While spoken by what sounded like a teenage girl, the set itself featured an adult male scientist and adult female patron animatronics at a bar, framed by a backlit sign for Nuka-Cola Dark. “Then pick up an ice-cold Nuka-Cola Dark and experience the most thirst-quenching way to unwind.”

The cheerful announcer said, “But this isn’t just a ride, it’s one of several operational factories actively producing Nuka-Cola.” To their left were large windows giving a view into a part of the bottling plant. To their right was a mesh cage with a maglock door, protecting a Nuka-Cola-branded set of power armor; it was shifted out immediately.

Another blown-out wall greeted them on the right.

“Here in the bottling chamber, we carefully pour each delicious liquid into our new, space-age rocket bottles!”

“Weapons hot!” an Assaultron informed them. “Engaging hostile!”

How it expected to do so from behind the bullet-proof windows separating them from it…

“Running elimination subroutines…”

Tsuna rolled his eyes and rounded the corner to see the blocked off exit.

“And now for a special surprise, this is where we produce the newest member of our family, Nuka-Cola Quantum!”

He could see, through the windows, the maglock door that would not open without the power being on, but as they had already handled that, it wasn’t an issue. They cleared out the last of the eggs on the river and started to backtrack after Tsuna acquired a spacesuit from an animatronic stationed right before the exit.

“On behalf of all of us at Nuka-World, we hope you’ve enjoyed the ride and learning more about Nuka-Cola!”

“I wonder if they were stingy enough to not provide drinks for this farce,” Daemon muttered.

The bottling plant was simple in comparison, though confusing to navigate, and using the accessways to get to it resulted in a confusing jumble of set announcements all being spoken at the same time. A control room tucked into the space between the ride entrance and exit gave the option to open the maglock door barring entrance to where the power armor had been.

They cleared out the Assaultron, a few turrets, and shifted out dozens of bottles of Nuka-Cola. One terminal had several amusing entries:

> #### [Nuka-Bar automated till further notice]  
>    
>  To all Ride Staff,  
>    
>  Management has decided that the Nuka-Bar section of the ride is to automated only until further notice. Despite numerous warnings that actors are only to simulate drinking Nuka-Cola Dark while staffing that section of our ride, Jenny fell off the stool and into the river. She's fine, but the nurse said she had a blood alcohol level of 0.37 after only two hours into her shift. While we appreciate her enthusiasm for Nuka-Cola products, we also have to maintain a safe environment for our guests, one of whom lost their glasses when Jenny hit her head on the boat.  
>    
>  [Stick to the script]  
>    
>  To all Ride Staff,  
>    
>  I understand that some of you have come to work for us from other amusement parks where adlibbing was permitted or even encouraged, but here at Nuka-World, we ask that you stick to the script. For example, the Wild West section of the ride is to be staffed only by cowboys or cowgirls. It is NOT to be staffed by Nuka-Girl, Zetans, Clowns, Knights, Pirates, Gorillas, Ninjas, or Sea Monsters.  
>    
>  [No more pranks]  
>    
>  To all Ride Staff,  
>    
>  It has come to our attention that a number of "pranks" have been played on workers in the bottling plant. Be advised that these kinds of "pranks" are not in keeping with the culture outlined in the Nuka-World Employee Handbook.  
>    
>  For example, filling a tray of empty bottles with dry ice and sending them into the capper so they explode when sealed is clearly in violation of safety protocols. I'm sure when Randal gets out of the hospital he'll probably say it was hilarious, but Nuka-Cola is paying for his eye surgery, so management finds it ... less funny.

At the maglock door (which would not open without park power on) was a holotape to be listened to.

> “This is Corporal Downey. As far as I know, last living member of Sergeant Lanier’s recon team. We tried to secure the bottling plant and got overrun by some new breed of mirelurk. I’ve never seen anything like them. Blue glow, so strong. Stronger than any Commonwealth ’lurk I’ve encountered. It’s gotta be the Quantum running through this place. We breached their nest, and they poured out.
> 
> “We fell back, but I’m pretty sure one of those damn ’lurks made off with my leg in the process. Private Clay dragged me to safety before I sent him to warn the others back at camp, but … I could hear the screams from here. I know help’s not coming, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be food for some mirelurk spawn, so I’m taking this matter into my own hands. This is Corporal Downey. Signing off. For good.”

“The fuck’s this dude talking about?” Hayato said as Tsuna found and picked up a star core. “His body is right here. If the mirelurks wanted to eat him, killing himself wasn’t gonna make it not happen. Sure, these bodies here look untouched, but maybe only because the hatchlings hadn’t popped yet. Besides, those Assaultrons were still active and killing shit.”

“Desperate people don’t always think things through?” Mukuro said.

Inside the Secure Beverageer Lab was a small reception desk, a water fountain, a cigarette machine, two turrets, and a lift. In the facilities below were a residential area with a kitchen/dining/lounge area and four small bedrooms the next level up, a lab, a test area, and a dedicated fusion plant.

Meacham Recording AB30 said:

> “So, Rex? What did Dr Leavitt say?”
> 
> “It was like we expected. She won’t be joining Project Cobalt.”
> 
> “But didn’t you tell her how important this is to the country? I mean, if she hasn’t noticed … we are at war.”
> 
> “I didn’t even get that far in the conversation. She still thinks all we’re doing here is making soda, for gods sakes. It’s a shame, too, because she’s the best organic chemist we have. I guess we’ll just have to rely on Dr Medford from now on.”
> 
> “Wait. She’s leaving? She’s going to walk away from all of this?”
> 
> “She’s not only walking away from her job here, she’s blacklisting herself from our industry entirely. When I told J.C. about our chat, he blew his top. Started ranting about how he took a chance on Dr Leavitt, and she’s throwing it back in his face. The man’s connected, Kevin. He makes a few phone calls, and by November she may as well hang up her lab coat for good.”
> 
> “Damn. Remind me never to get on Bradberton’s bad side.”

“So, is it just me, or does anyone else find it odd that so many people in this dimension were obsessed with recording random conversations?” Sin asked.

“It’s called environmental storytelling,” he said, “and we’re not supposed to notice how kooky it is. We’re supposed to squee over getting a glimpse into the past right around the time the bombs fell. Let’s not even go into how we rarely if ever find any equipment with which to make the recordings in the first place.”

Sin rolled his eyes in response.

One of the bedrooms held a skeleton, the skull a good two feet away from the body. In the room across from it they found Meacham Recording AB27, which said:

> “You wanted to talk, so talk.”
> 
> “Don’t take that tone with me, Rex,” a woman said. “You know exactly why I’m pulling you aside. You told Bradberton our team would work on Project Cobalt without asking the rest of us first.”
> 
> “I don’t have to consult with any of you first. I’m the Lead Beverageer, remember? There’s a reason J.C. put me in charge, you know. He trusts me to make the hard decisions and make them quickly.”
> 
> “Are you even listening to yourself? ‘J.C.’? What, are the two of you best buddies now? When you talk like that, I picture you in a crushed velvet jacket swirling a snifter of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other. What the hell happened to you, Rex? I used to look up to you and now you want us to jump into bed with the U.S. Army. I joined this team to bring joy to the world, not to create weapons of mass destruction.”
> 
> “You know what, Kate? I expected more out of you. I really thought you’d jump at the chance to stop fooling around making soft drink flavors and play with the big boys for a change. I’ll make this simple for you. Either you stop this emotional outburst and join the rest of us in reality, or I’m pulling you off the team.”
> 
> “Go to hell, Rex. You’ll have my resignation by the end of the month.”

“Notice how he accuses her of being emotional?” Xeul said. “Classic tactic and a way to dismiss the concerns of a woman, or belittle her. As if men never feel anything? Pfft.”

The other two bedrooms were mostly bare, though one did hold another skeleton, that time intact.

Inside the test area were schematics for Project Cobalt, which translated to Quantum Grenades and mods for Thirst Zappers. Also there was a note.

> It’s finally complete. Despite the treason and cowardice from my fellow Beverageers, I’ve finally completed the stable weaponization of Quantum.
> 
> I’ve triggered the military notification switch so it’s only a matter of time now. Haven’t been feeling well since going into the reactor after Bennell. Think I’m going to just rest here till my extraction team arrives.

Judging by the skeleton sprawled on the floor next to the table…

There was a large pipe leading out of the back of the reactor area, which led to a small service station with a skeleton (Bennell clearly died before completing his escape), a terminal which unlocked the way further, and a grating which opened out into the access tunnels of Kiddie Kingdom. A control room in there held a painted ghoul and a terminal which would turn off the misters. Tsuna didn’t bother, as he assumed Oswald would just turn them back on again like he did in the game, so they backtracked.

The Beverageer terminal held several entries of interest.

> #### [Compound Q4N7-UM]  
>    
>  Sample Designation: Q4N7-UM  
>    
>  Testing Notes:  
>    
>  Strontium-90 retention seems adequate. Substance stays liquid at temperatures up to 127c and doesn't create toxic vapor. Thermogenic reaction can be achieved by manipulation of electron sub-field.  
>    
>  If we can find a safe way to trigger the radioactive thermogenesis, this may be exactly what I've been looking for. Also it has a pleasant blue glow.  
>    
>  R.M.  
>    
>  [Compound Q4N7-UM - 0.245]  
>    
>  Sample Designation: Q4N7-UM - 0.245  
>    
>  Testing Notes:  
>    
>  Repeatable thermogenetic trigger has been achieved. Substance stays in liquid form after trigger, but will explode from a suitable impact. Works sort of like nitroglycerin, but safer and with a much stronger yield. Planning on showing this to Bradberton in the form of a "Nuka-Nuke" to present to Braxton. Decided to call the substance "Quantum".  
>    
>  Ready to begin testing as a beverage as well.  
>    
>  R.M.

“Are you shitting me?” Hayato said. “They made a weapons-grade substance into a soft drink on the side?

> #### [Meacham RMNC-0987115]  
>    
>  After getting the final okay on our data from General Braxton, we began the actual synthesis process. Based on our initial data, we went with a strontium-90 derivative. It was an immediate success. The weapons we applied the new, bluish payload material to was amplified well beyond our expectations. Ironically, with a slight tweak to the synthesis, we ended up with a totally stable and relatively safe—

“Relatively safe!?” Hayato interjected.

> #### —additive that we could give a drink a unique bluish glow. I don't know why I was thinking soft drinks at that point, I suppose there was a little bit of beverageer left in me after all.   
>    
>  [Meacham RMNC-0987133]  
>    
>  Ruth is dead. I had to do it. I had no choice. She was going to compromise the entire lab. Until I know what's going on up there, until I know for certain that the bombs have fallen, I can't afford to open that door. Not under any circumstances. Ruth, I'm so sorry. I'll always remember you.

“Who the hell was Ruth?” Ken muttered. “Medford?”

> #### [Meacham RMNC-0987138]  
>    
>  The last two weeks have been insane. The enemy finally went crazy and bombed the hell out of us, Ruth is dead and Edmund hung himself. Even as I type this, I'm having a difficult time processing it all. The only thing I can do is continue working on Project Cobalt. If there's a war going on above our heads, then we could be this country's only chance to tip the scales. I've had Kevin tweaking the isotope, it's still too unstable for our troops to handle. If we only had a little more time.  
>    
>  [Meacham RMNC-0987145]  
>    
>  I thought Kevin was with me on Project Cobalt. We've been safe down here for over a year now and there's no reason we couldn't keep going for at least another six months. Turns out he'd been plotting for weeks to try to leave the lab through the reactor's emergency overflow—

An overflow that led into the area below Kiddie Kingdom, ominously enough.

> #### —probably trying to sell my work to the goddamn enemy! I couldn't let him go. I know I managed to hit him a few times with my pistol before he disappeared down the overflow tunnel. The blood loss and the radiation will surely finish him off. Serves him right ... traitor.

“Well, he went bugnuts, clearly,” Daemon said.

There were two more holotapes in the area. Meacham Recording AB35 said:

> Meacham, Rex: “This is your last chance, Kate. I could still convince J.C. to keep you here if you just agree to join Project Cobalt.”
> 
> Leavitt, Kate: “First of all, I’m not ‘Kate’ to you … not anymore. And second of all, no thanks, I’m done being your lab rat. I already have my things packed and I’ll be out of here by tomorrow. So, until then, why don’t you just stay out of my way.”
> 
> Unknown, Kevin (presumed Bennell, Kevin): “Come on, Dr Leavitt, be reasonable. After the U.S. wins this war, I’m sure they’ll close Project Cobalt and we can get back to making people happy. You’re one of the most talented scientists I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with, and I really hate to see you go.”
> 
> Unknown, Unknown (presumed Medford, Edmund): “I’m with Dr Bennell. I mean, it’s just not going to be the same without you here.”
> 
> Leavitt: “I appreciate what you’re both saying, but my mind’s made up. Bradberton might own half of Massachusetts, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him own me. And if you two were smart, you’d both get out of here—”
> 
> Bennell: “What the hell is that alarm? What’s that noise?”
> 
> Meacham: “Oh my god. It’s happening. How could it be happening now? I thought we were winning this war. Have they launched missiles at us? Damn it… I wish we could see what was going on outside!”
> 
> Medford: “Oh my god … the door just sealed. We’re stuck down here.”
> 
> Leavitt: “What are you talking about? There’s no way out?”
> 
> Meacham: “It’s a built in safety precaution. Bradberton must have hit the panic button in his office. It seals all the high security areas up tight, his vault, our lab, the power plant’s control center … all of it. We have to face facts. We might be down here for a long time.”
> 
> Leavitt: “Well, Rex … looks like you got what you wanted.”

Meacham Recording AB42 said:

> Leavitt: “I don’t care if Bradberton made you the Pope. You’re not telling me what to do anymore! We’ve been stuck down here for weeks. There is no Bradberton anymore. There’s no Nuka-World anymore. No _nothing_ anymore! Don’t you get it, Rex? We’re done. Humanity’s done. We might be all that’s left … and you want to continue working on this bullshit project!?”
> 
> Meacham: “Why don’t you wake up, Kate? You don’t know what’s going on out there. There could be Chinese soldiers right above us, and we’d never know. Project Cobalt could be the thing that saves us … saves America. We have to keep working!”
> 
> Bennell: “I wish the two of you would stop fighting. We need to keep level heads if we’re going to survive. Look, Kate … maybe Rex is right. Maybe if we concentrate on our work, it’ll take our mind off of things for a while. None of us want to end up like … like Dr Medford.”
> 
> Meacham: “Look, I don’t deny it’s a shame what happened to Dr Medford, but at least he kept his mind on his work. The fact of the matter is, he lost it … he was weak. He let his emotions take over. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you.”
> 
> Leavitt: “You’re crazy. At first, I thought you were just driven … but I was wrong … you’re absolutely crazy. Why don’t you pull out some of your ‘secret’ recordings you’ve been making of us … you know, the ones you think we don’t know about. Play them back and listen to yourself over the last few weeks … listen to how god damn insane you sound. Well you know what? I’m done. I’m done with you and I’m done hiding down here waiting until you snap.”
> 
> Meacham: “Get away from the door controls, Kate. I’m not kidding.”
> 
> Levitt: “A gun? So what are you going to do? You going to shoot me now? Is that what this has come to!? I said this to you a few months ago, and I’ll say it again. Go to hell, Rex … and good-bye.”

There was the distinct sound of a gun firing and the thud of a body hitting something.

> Bennell: “Oh my god. You … you shot her. She’s … she’s gone.”
> 
> Meacham: “I had to do it, Kevin. She left me no choice. Now let’s take care of this mess and get back to work.”

“Which makes the one Edmund Medford, who hung himself. Still no answer as to who the hell Ruth was, though, unless Kate was just a nickname and Ruth was her real one. No other woman was mentioned or heard, but both Ruth and Kate tried to open the way out. Plus, there were only four skeletons,” Ken said. “Meacham killed or drove his teammates to death. What a swell guy.”

“It’s like an old radio drama,” Sin said, “just without the radio.”

“Thus ends the saga of the Secure Beverageer Lab,” he said. “Let’s mosey on up that lift and move to the next exciting part of our Nuka-World adventure.”

Kiddie Kingdom had a castle, of course, visible from quite a distance. That was at the back of the park, through a maze of attractions, shops, and concessions. On their way to the main gate some bloodworms exploded out of the ground, startling the hell out of him, but they were quickly destroyed and they continued on.

The place was all gingerbread buildings, with massive, swirly-faced lollipops, gumdrops (or possibly bon-bons), and ice cream cones decorating the park and, as they passed through the main gate, a gritty ghoul voice could be heard. Oswald.

“Well now, friends. It seems we have another uninvited guest to the park. Up! Up, performers! It’s time for another show! Though I doubt you’ll even make it to the theatre, stranger.”

Ghouls began to stand up, slither out, or otherwise appear, every last one of them splashed with paint in a myriad of pastel colours. Tsuna, being no fool, immediately shifted up to the top of a nearby building so he had height and protection, not only from ghouls, but partially from the misters, which were six or seven foot tall poles with a dozen nozzles per, each spraying out a radioactive mist.

His family copied his tactics, and the ghouls in the immediate vicinity were easily taken out. They kept to the roofs as they covered the exterior portions of the park, sniping each and every ghoul they could locate. Tsuna put on his heat-vision goggles to make the damn things easier to spot.

“Baker, baker, pastry maker. Shoot and slash and bite and break her,” Oswald’s gritty voice chanted from a nearby speaker.

Grenades were thrown in various directions, to flush out more or blow them to bits, as they had a habit of half burying themselves in debris, making them difficult to spot.

There were park medallions to be gained at the ferris wheel and Nuka-Racers, and a Hidden Cappy (“I”) at the top of a half-destroyed clock tower outside King Cola’s Castle (aka King Cola’s Court, the theatre).

“Do you enjoy that lovely glowing mist? Feels great to us!”

Xeul sighed. “We haven’t found anything else in the last ten minutes. Where to?”

“The fun house,” he said. “Prepare to get nauseous.”

There were two doors inside. One, a single, and inaccessible from their side (not that it would stop a determined Tsuna should he choose otherwise). The other, a double, led into the fun house proper, starting with the mirror maze, except that the mirrors were plain glass. Considering it was intended for children, it was not exactly taxing on the brain.

It was peppered with mannequins, dead raiders, laser tripwires, and mines.

Next up was a hallway with a maglock door at the end and, in a perpendicular hallway, a conveyor belt running the wrong way. At the end of that perpendicular hallway, up higher, was a window into a control room, and Oswald was standing up there observing.

Tsuna sent a clone on ahead, bunny hopping the whole way and, as it reached the end, it triggered a series of grenades falling from a hole in the ceiling. However, it got enough of a look around the corner at that end for Tsuna to open a window so he and his family could shift to the next obstacle.

That was the turntable room, with a fetid pool in which two Nuka-Cola bottle statues sat, each with a quarter round platform, the idea being to jump across, getting the timing just right, to make it to the other side. As an added attraction there were feral ghouls in the water, waiting to pounce. Samsara simply shifted to the other side.

“Oh, joy,” Hayato said.

A door to the right opened to a short flight of stairs, a terminal, and that earlier maglock door.

The swirly room of sickness was a series of rotating tubes, the interiors of which were patterned like candy canes, and they glowed. He could already feel his stomach complaining as he looked at the first one. The glow colour changing periodically did nothing to help, nor did the rotating disco ball lighting of purple against black walls.

Eventually they came to a tube that had a few sections missing, and a door at the end (with a bonus surprise of two ghouls), and took a moment to rest and for Sin and Ken to ease everyone’s nausea.

The next portion was a topsy-turvy room with furniture attached to the walls or ceiling, doors in the floor which opened to blank cement (or on the ceiling with no way to get to them), and another in the wall which opened to a neon sign that blared: Drink Nuka-Cola Today!

Up a short flight of stairs and around the corner was the exit. It led to the next horror, a turntable room, full of ghouls, evenly spaced doors around the perimeter, and several traps. A few grenades took care of the ghouls, but checking each and every door was a pain as they spun by, all for the purpose of finding which room had the Hidden Cappy (“F”), and the way onward.

The floor, well, it had a glowing pinwheel pattern, which was unappreciated.

The next room held the door to the lobby, for which a chain had to be removed, and a door to the employee-only access corridor. The control room back there no longer had Oswald in residence, and it seemed pointless to use the terminal to reduce the nausea setting on the Hypno Halls after the fact. Had he been a little more patient he could have used it to stop the turntable, to make it easier to check all those doors.

That same terminal held entries from some of the survivors who had decided to inhabit Kiddie Kingdom and hints as to the radiation mutating them, though the entries changed from a Herman to Oswald.

“Okay, we’re done in here,” he said. “Let’s head to the castle.”

It was a ruin. It was also, in the theatre proper, infested with ghouls, though they all registered as “dead” to Tsuna’s heat-vision goggles.

“And now… The show you’ve all been waiting for… Oswald the Outrageous!” A smoke bomb went off on the upper level of the stage, and from it appeared Oswald, dressed in a tux and top hat. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d make it this far.” He tossed another smoke bomb and reappeared down on the floor.

“When the bombs fell … everything changed. We changed. And somehow I received a gift. Actual magic. The stuff of legends. Perhaps you’d like to see some?” He made a sweeping motion with one hand and cried out, “Up!”

Poor bastard doesn’t seem to have any clue that all glowing ghouls can heal or revive their compatriots.

“No matter what you do, I can heal my friends,” Oswald said as the “dead” ghouls began to rise. “And we will protect what is ours.”

Tsuna ignored those and kept his gun on Oswald, who started things by attacking him with a sword. But just before he “died” another smoke bomb went off and Oswald vanished again.

“Well, it seems your asinine assault won’t be dissuaded. Then I guess it’s time for our final act. Join me on the roof of King Cola’s Castle and we’ll see an end to this production.”

“Yeah, the roof just loaded with more nuclear waste,” he muttered. “Up the lift we go, darlings.”

Oswald appeared in more smoke and said, “You invaders are all the same. You come into someone’s home, steal their belongings, and kill those they care about. I’m not going to let you kill any more of my friends. This is our home, not yours.”

“I’m not your enemy. I will, however, fight back against those who attack me. This can end without further bloodshed.”

Oswald shook his head. “We’ve defended this place for over two hundred years,” he said passionately. “Do you think you’re the first outsider I’ve met that’s chosen to brand ‘feral’ ghouls as monsters? How many of them have you needlessly slaughtered while ignorantly thinking you’ve done the world a favor!?”

So we’re supposed to just let them eat us? That does the world a favor, how?

Tsuna sighed. “Ghouls like your friends… It’s too late for them. The radiation has changed them forever.”

“So you’re admitting my friends are sick and yet you try to kill them anyway?”

And if they truly were sick he’d have a point. As it is, he’s sadly ignorant.

“I’d say that makes you the only monster around here.”

“It’s not a sickness,” he said. “The radiation has consumed their minds. There’s nothing left, and that’s why they’re feral.”

“You’re wrong! Rachel is going to find a way to cure them, we’re going to fix this! My beloved left this place years ago to find a cure to this disease. In return, I swore that I’d keep our people safe by defending our home. When Rachel walks back through those gates with the cure in hand, then you’ll see … everyone will see … that I was right!”

“This holotape says otherwise,” he said, holding it out. “We found it in Bradberton, next to a dead ghoul in a ruined house. She said her name was Rachel, and that there was no cure. Maybe you should listen to it, hear her last words. They were to you.”

“She’s dead? No… No… My poor Rachel. How could I allow her to leave my side on such a difficult journey alone? This is all my fault. Well that does it, then,” Oswald said, still not having taken the holotape. “It’s up to me to leave here and find the cure myself. I’ll gather what remains of my friends and we’ll leave this place in your care. Don’t worry about the radiation, it will no longer be a burden to you and your kind. And here, you should have this. Consider it an apology for misjudging you.”

Oswald handed over his sword and his tophat, said, “Farewell,” and disappeared in another smoke bomb.

“Right. We’re taking a fucking break,” he said. “Let’s hit the decontamination room, clean up, eat, and relax before dealing with the next park.”


	15. λ34: 15: Nuka-World

## λ34  
15: Nuka-World  
“It is not permitted to dangle small children over the railing as you proceed to the next room.”

Tsuna was in the middle of consuming his dinner when an idea occurred to him and he paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “I may have an idea.”

“Hm?”

“The Brotherhood children. I don’t think we can afford to have them in the Commonwealth proper. We can’t really afford to track down a base farther west, either, and have them report what little they know. But we could, potentially, put them in a Minutemen settlement here?”

Brows went up.

“So long as we made it clear to Garvey that any settlers sent this way would need to be okay with dealing with kids.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve seen any BoS here,” Daemon said. “There were still stragglers in Boston, but nothing here so far. They might not have considered it worthwhile to bother with. It’s an amusement park.”

“Perhaps, if we do this, we should set up a guard post of some kind at the station?” Mukuro said. “Manned either by Minutemen or Nuka-World traders, or both, mostly to direct anyone incoming and to prevent those children from scampering off?”

“I take it you’re not thrilled with the idea of tampering with their memories,” Xeul said.

Tsuna grimaced. “Not really. They’re just kids.”

“Then I suggest we get on with clearing out most of the hostiles in this valley to lessen the danger. And so long as Verde’s complex is adequately sealed off to visitors, that shouldn’t present a problem, either.”

Safari Adventure was next on the list, because there was someone in there who could really use a hand. It did beg the question, however, as to why the hostiles in that park were not all over the place. It wasn’t as if the entrance was closed.

Directly ahead he could see the neon sign for the Welcome Center, up a short flight of steps, behind a fountain, and up another short flight of steps. However, there was a more immediate issue, that being a Tarzan cosplayer fighting a gatorclaw, which looked to be a hybrid of an alligator and a deathclaw.

Tarzan bounded over after they ensured the thing’s death, swinging his sledgehammer out of the way, and said, “Cito see you kill monster. You friend?”

“Sure.”

“Cito happy have strong friend. You kill monster alone. Monster strong, but you stronger. Cito happy you kill monster. Monster hurt Cito and Cito family.”

“It won’t anymore.”

“Many more monster. No stop. Cito kill monster. New monster come. Cito kill monster again. New monster come again. Monsters not stop. Help Cito stop monsters?”

“Yes, we will help.”

“Cito happy you help! New friends follow Cito. Cito show you thing. Thing to help kill monsters.” Cito turned and bounded off to the right, then left through an alley, right through a large cage, and—

There was a short intermission while another gatorclaw was shot to pieces.

— into the Primate House.

Tsuna, however, paused to check the back of the gorilla statues, and scored another Hidden Cappy (“N”) before following him inside.

There were four gori—ghoulrillas in there, chilling out.

“This home. This family.” Cito made gorilla sounds, presumably communicating with them. “No worry. They not hurt you. You friend Cito mean you friend family.”

“It’s always good to have family, and yours is lovely.”

“You say nice thing. Cito like new friend. Now you help Cito. Family in danger. Hide here from monsters. Here only safe place. Here have no food. Here have no water. Cito go outside to help family. Monster try to kill Cito. Cito kill many. More monsters come. Never stop. Cito scared monster hurt family. Cito have story. Story help stop monsters.

“Cito eat with family. Wrinkly Man come inside home. Wrinkly Man hurt. Cito try help. Wrinkly Man say he make monsters! Cito mad at Wrinkly Man. Monsters hurt family. Wrinkly Man sorry monsters hurt family. He give Cito shiny thing. He say shiny thing help Cito stop monsters. Cito try help more but Wrinkly Man die. Cito put Wrinkly Man in ground but keep shiny thing. Now give shiny thing new friend,” Cito said, pulling it out of his loincloth.

Tsuna had never before so desperately wished for a pair of gloves.

“Help Cito.”

Tsuna smiled and nodded, then slipped the not-very-shiny-at-all holotape into his Pip-Boy. It said, minus all the coughing:

> “This is … Dr Darren McDermot, last known survivor … at the Safari Adventure … Replication Facility. This is … my final recording. I’ve done something horrible … the thing I created … the thing I called the gatorclaw … they must be destroyed.
> 
> “They can’t be … tamed, they can’t be controlled … their sheer ferocity is like nothing I’ve ever seen. And now … the Nuka-Gen Rep—Replicator is out of control. It’s producing them at an … alarming rate.
> 
> “Please … somebody. Anybody. Find my passcode … or Dr Hein’s. Shut down the Replicator before it’s … before it’s too late. And if this recording should reach Dr … Hein. Please … tell him … to forgive me.”

At one end of one of the two large cages inside was a mattress and a few wooden crates. More importantly, there was the note there.

> If you’re reading this note, then you’ve met Marcosito. His father, Marcos, was killed in a super mutant attack on our settlement, and I’m afraid my own wounds will be taking me as well. I don’t have much time, and I’m terrified to send him out into this world alone, but I don’t have any choice. I’m begging you to please take him in and see that he gets the food and shelter he’ll need to survive. Tell our little Cito that his parents love him, and that if he’s looking for us, we’ll always be inside his heart.
> 
> #### Cito’s Mother,  
>  Imelda

As he approached the center again, Cito spoke up. “Shiny thing help new friend!?”

“Yes. I just need to find the—never mind. Do you have any idea where Wrinkly Man came from?”

“Cito see Wrinkly Man come from Big Triangle House long time ago.”

“Awesome. You’ve been very helpful, Cito.”

“Cito come with new friend. Cito help!”

“Ah, no. Stay with your family. We will give you food and water. We will stop the monsters.”

“Cito stay. Cito protect family.”

He nodded. “Guys?”

A supply of food and water was produced, ostensibly from a pack that blossomed into being on Ken’s back, and they trundled off outside. The first thing he did was shift up onto the cage facing them, and his family followed.

“First thing, we check the exterior and take out any and all gatorclaws, two to a team. There’s also another Hidden Cappy to get in the hedge maze, and a medallion at the tree house in the center of it. So let’s meet up there.”

Everyone nodded and scattered, staying high up, like sensible people.

Tsuna did duck down long enough to grab the Hidden Cappy (“E”) while Sin covered him, before taking to the heights again.

Safari Adventure wasn’t terribly large, so they were shortly up in the treehouse (where Tsuna got his Park Medallion). Why there were so many military skeletons up there…

“I’m wondering if we can just shortcut this one,” he said, gazing up at the sky.

“How so?”

“We go to the Big Triangle House, read some stuff, learn that we absolutely need that passcode, talk to Cito again, who points us in the right direction, get said passcode, then return to the Welcome Center and head down to the lab. Which is nuts. The shortcut would be to go to the roller coaster, get the passcode, and skip all that shit in the middle. Because really, the Angry Anaconda? Clearly a ride.”

“So let’s try it.”

“Worst case is we have to do things the long and tedious way.”

“Right.”

The Angry Anaconda was in plain sight, off to the west. The site sported several gatorclaws to kill, and a few capsule-style temporary offices. In one of them was a labcoat-wearing skeleton and Dr Hein’s passcode.

“Before we head into the Welcome Center, we should do another quick sweep, including entering the Reptile House. I’m fairly certain there’s a gatorclaw inside the Welcome Center, so the Reptile House likely has one as well.”

Downstairs and around the corner was a locked door with a terminal on the wall beside it, which was used to unlock the door. It opened to a short concrete hall that turned right and down a short flight of stairs, which in turn led to a longer hall, and a longer flight of stairs down at the end.

It was all very industrial.

In the main lab there were barred “windows” to the right as well as a set of double doors at the far end, a gatorclaw straight on to be killed with a set of double doors behind it, and stairs going up to the left, as well as cages inset into the concrete.

“So what’s the story here?” Chikusa asked.

“An animal rights group kidnapped Dr Hein, which explains him. The other dude, Wrinkly Man, was ghoulified and remained down here. Decided to create some ‘protectors’ of the park and ended up with gatorclaws. Which, clearly, went horribly wrong. Interestingly, there’s a cloning machine here which Verde might find useful. Maybe not. We’ll find out. Once we’re done we can let him know and see what he wants to do. Ah, hang on, I vaguely recall there was something on this terminal, maybe.”

There were two applicable entries.

> #### Journal Entry XX-32-999 (Date Out of Range)  
>    
>  My attempts at creating the Gatorclaw continue. I have the correct samples of Jackson Chameleon and American Alligator in the mix, but keeping Sample Q334 stable continues to elude me. If I intend to create a guardian creature for Safari Adventure, it has to be able to listen to and comprehend my commands. I was hoping the brain cells from Q334 would do the trick, but I've seen failure after failure. I hesitate to throw the switch and see what happens. What if I can't control it? What if it ends up attracting more attention to the park? I think I'll check the sequence a few more times just to be sure.

“The Q334 sample he’s talking about came from a dead super mutant he stumbled over,” he commented.

> #### Journal Entry XX-17-999 (Date Out of Range)  
>    
>  One of the two backup reactors for the laboratory died today. That leaves a single generator to run the facility's power. If that last reactor goes down, I may have to consider destroying the Nuka-Gen Replicator and abandoning the laboratory. Even though I could have already done this a long time ago, I realize this machine could possibly be the last of its kind on earth. Meaning, this could be mankind's only hope for repopulating the earth with animals and returning the ecosystem to normal once conditions on the surface are suitable for habitation.

“Hence why you want Verde’s input,” Sin said.

He nodded.

The doors to the right held cages, refrigerators meant to hold samples, two voiced journal holotapes, and another terminal. Aside from cloning mishaps and a reference to Project Cobalt, there was nothing much interesting in any of it. Up the stairs was a maglock door, wall terminal, and in the room, more sample refrigerators.

It was through the central doors, down a hallway, and down more steps that they found the Nuka-Gen Replicator, a lot of water, and more gatorclaws. Even down there were large advertisements for Nuka-Cola, all of them backlit. Tons of consoles and such, as well.

“It might be better to block access to this place and bring Verde here personally at some point,” Xeul said. “We don’t have a clue what most of this does, but he might make sense of it.”

“Yeah. Let’s finish up this facility, bar that door upstairs from the inside and put a keep away on it, and worry about it later.” He headed for the terminal at the back, used the passcode they had obtained, and disabled the current replication procedure.

There was a large pipe at the back, the door for it locked by a terminal. Unfortunately, there was a gatorclaw in it, so it had to be opened. His quest updated to let them know to speak to Cito, so they locked the pipe again, slapped a keep away on it, and headed out, back to the Primate House.

“New friend done? No more monsters?”

“There will always be other monsters, but you’ve seen the last of the ones that were here.”

“Cito not worry. New friend teach Cito to be strong. Teach Cito to be brave. How Cito thank new friend?”

“Thank me by continuing to protect your family.”

“Cito will!”

“Dios mio,” Sin muttered.

“Yeah. The next one is worse. Those worms that burst out of the ground? Breeding ground time.”

Everyone groaned.

“Time for Dry Rock Gulch.” And, remembering a shortcut to that section, he opened his Pip-Boy so he could perk up again, this time taking perks related to robots. “I’d say stay high and we grenade the place, but there are four robots in there we need cooperation from. Instead, stay high and we can take turns baiting them into surfacing.”

The handmade sign outside the entrance read: danger! bloodworms!

He could see one of the robots not far in, complete with stetson and, as they got closer, heard, “Howdy, partners! Welcome to Dry Rock Gulch, where it’s always high noon! Yeehaw! Get along little doggies at Dry Rock Gulch! Do you have what it takes to be one of my deputies? Come on over and find out!”

“Little busy here,” he muttered, using VATS to figure out where the surface worms were.

Some time later they had flushed out as many as could be found, so it was back to the entrance to hear, “Hope y’all are having a good day here at Nuka-World. Ready to saddle up and ride into the old wild west?”

“You seem to have a varmint problem here.”

“I don’t know about varmints,” the Protectron “sheriff” said in its oddly inflected mechanical voice, “but we got us some no-good outlaws holed up in—Mad Mulligan’s Mine.” The Protectron’s voice altered on the attraction name, giving it a gritty and urgent sound. “We sure could use a hand around here. What do you say? Want to be my deputy?”

“Let me see if I can run some overrides, make you a little more helpful,” he muttered, then got to work. It was a beautiful thing when game aspects negated years of higher education.

“Employee manual login recognized. Currently running in full park exhibition mode. Visitors are directed to our three main activity centers: Doc Phosphate’s Saloon, Giddyup Kid’s Corral, and One-Eyed Ike’s quick-draw contest. After completing each activity, the visitor will be given part of the combination to the safe that holds the key to—Mad Mulligan’s Mine. Signs of life in the mine originally believed to be Mine Cart Ride attendants, but may actually be an infestation of deadly worms. Advise contracting exterminators. System will now reboot. Have a nice day, and don’t forget your uniform!”

Somehow, from somewhere, the Protectron produced and handed over a western outfit and hat, which Tsuna shifted to storage for recycling two steps past the robot.

“Feeling thirsty? Visit Doc Phosphate’s Saloon for a free Nuka-Cola Wild! It’s a rootin’ tootin’ good time!”

“I’m hearing two choices here,” Daemon said. “We either get the code and enter that way, or we kick the fucking door down, relatively speaking.”

“There is a Hidden Cappy out here I need to get, so we might as well just get the code. It won’t take long.”

“Fine,” Daemon said with a sigh.

Mad Mulligan’s Mine was on the north side of the park, and currently locked. Doc Phosphate’s was west, facing south. Also over that way was a fake cemetery and, on the back of a tombstone, was a Hidden Cappy (“E”). Back on the path and south were two dead traders and a star core, which Tsuna grabbed.

In front of the graveyard was the Giddyup Kid (also wearing a stetson), who said, “Oh thank goodness, it’s the new deputy. You gotta help me. My herd of Giddyup Buttercups have all fled the pokey!” The utterly deadpan, mechanical delivery was hysterical in a twisted way. “You gotta track ’em down and bring ’em back to my corral. Now, Giddyup Buttercups can’t resist the taste of Nuka-Cola, so check all of our refreshments stands! What do you say, deputy? Can you help an honest horse-trader out?”

“Yeah, no,” he muttered and hacked the thing.

As he did so Ken said, “How did that even work? Do they have people hiding in the bushes, ready to pop a new toy into place as soon as the most recent kid wanders off with one? Or was only one kid allowed to run this ‘quest’ at a time?”

“Employee manual login recognized. Exhibition bypass protocol engaged. Handing over part three of this week’s safe combination. Rebooting.”

At Doc Phosphate’s (filled with skeletons) was Doc Phosphate (also wearing a stetson).

“You look parched there, stranger. You know what you need?”

“Sanity?” he muttered.

“A bottle of Nuka-Cola Wild! The root-based flavor with teeth!” One was duly shoved his way. “Hospitality is a big deal out here in Dry Rock Gulch. That’s why I want you to handle tending the bar. I got three orders of drinks I need you to deliver. One is just upstairs, and the other two are in town. You game?”

After a quick hacking he got, “Employee manual login recognized. Exhibition bypass protocol engaged. Handing over part two of this week’s safe combination. Rebooting.”

That left One-Eyed Ike (also wearing a stetson), who was halfway down the main street from the saloon and to the left, standing in front of a fake barn or something. “So you’re the new deputy, huh? Well, I ain’t impressed yet. Let’s see how you handle an old-fashioned quick-draw duel. The rules are simple. We’ll each walk into the street. I’ll count to three, and then I’ll say, ‘draw!’ First one to hit the other wins.”

“Fuck that noise,” he said, then hacked it.

“Employee manual login recognized. Exhibition bypass protocol engaged. Handing over part one of this week’s safe combination. Rebooting.”

He was also given a Smith & Wesson revolver for some reason. He had expected a Thirst Zapper. Had these robots seriously handed over live weapons to tots?

At the back of the open-air theatre was another barn thing, with a safe inside, and then it was off to Mad Mulligan’s.

“A quick warning,” he said as they entered. “If you see a dead brahmin, it’s got bloodworm larvae in it most likely. Get high, shoot it, and… Same at the end, where the actual coaster boarding is.”

An alcove long the way held a corpse and an employee key, and a bit farther on, around the corner, was a small mining set. The Hidden Cappy (“H”) was on the side of a small shack down there, but he only went for it after the bloated brahmin had been shot and the bloodworms killed.

Up the stairs and around saw them passing over an earthen ramp leading under the walkway—where they paused to kill yet more larvae slithering around down there—and then the path turned, went up a short flight of wooden stairs, and turned again to reveal a large “cave”.

Another western set was to their immediate left, a pit in front of that, and at the far wall, the minecarts for the defunct roller coaster. In the pit itself were several bloated brahmin to be shot and larvae to kill, plus the broodqueen.

Or, well, lots of grenades while they _Edged_.

A door on the wall marked employee only led to a small room, with a second door, which led to that underpass from before. That in turn led to the shop room, which held the machine which coughed up a Park Medallion for Tsuna.

On the way out they were hailed by the “sheriff”, who said, “Did you have fun in—Mad Mulligan’s Mine? Tussle with any bad outlaws?”

“It was more fun than a bale full of hay,” he said.

“Well, all right. Please put in a good word with Nuka-Cola corporate when your survey card arrives in the mail. Here. Take some souvenir bottle caps, courtesy of the Nuka-Cola Janitorial Service Department!” Two hundred caps were handed over. “You and your friends are welcome in Dry Rock Gulch any time!”

“There’s only one left, right?” Hayato said as they exited the main gate. “Please tell me there’s only one left. Then we go build a settlement and find a spot for Verde.”

Tsuna snickered. “Yes. The Galactic Zone, full of murderous robots—or at least, until we collect enough star cores to make Star Control function properly and stop them from attacking everyone.”

As a final “fuck you” a bloodworm larvae erupted and attacked, and was quickly killed.

“Or we whack them all and recycle them. Whichever. But first, clean up and a meal.”

“Was anyone else getting the urge to fill those ant mound things with quick-dry cement?” Daemon asked as they shifted out.

A quick side trip was made to the junkyard before hitting the Galactic Zone, if only because he remembered there was a star core there (and a power distributor). And for a further break, a trip to the Grandchester Mystery Mansion, as he remembered there was a Gunner or raider in there using the place to lure in people to kill and loot bare.

Just outside the place was a small stand (concessions? tickets?) and also a Protectron ticket taker.

“Come experience the wonder and horrors of the Grandchester Mystery Mansion. Why did little Lucy gruesomely kill her parents? It’s a mystery! See where she committed the bloody deed. Marvel at the animatronic models. See the actual kitchen where her mother lovingly prepared her meals. See the bloodstains that can’t be washed out.

“Not suitable for children under five. No animals were harmed in the making of this attraction. Grandchester Mystery Mansion Inc. is not responsible for health risks of this attraction. This includes but is not limited to: heart attack, stroke, fainting, or severe cuts and bruises.”

Up on the attic level, in one of the windows, he could just make out a young girl standing there, idling.

“Tickets please,” the Robotron said when approached.

He handed a bunch over that had been sitting on the stand’s counter.

“Enjoy your visit to the Grandchester Mystery Mansion. Kicking or spray painting the animatronic models is prohibited.”

He pushed on through the front door to be greeted with the ruinous entry. Stairs leading down were roped off, as were stairs leading up to the gallery. The final set of stairs went nowhere, as they ended at the wall. There were two doors on the ground floor, though one looked more like it was pretending to be a door than an actual door.

“The story of the Grandchester Mystery Mansion begins with Morticia and Hannibal Grandchester,” a male voice announced as he saw a little girl walk left along the gallery and disappear through a door on the left wall.

Girlish laughter sounded from all around them, and Hayato immediately whipped out a notebook and started writing.

“Morticia nearly dies giving birth to their only child, Lucy. Hannibal never wanted a child, and resents the young girl for the near death of his wife. Please proceed to the next room,” the announcer said as the red door on the ground floor left wall popped open. “No shoving or pushing. Disruptive behavior will result in being removed from the Grandchester Mystery Mansion.”

The door that looked like it was only pretending to be a door was stained wood, and opened to reveal a Halloween decoration on the wall immediately behind, with a damaged line of letters reading boom.

The tour door, the red one, opened to a room with a portrait on the opposite wall, and a bathroom scale pressure trap just inside it, which Sin handily dealt with.

“As a young child, Lucy proves difficult for her elderly parents. In this very room her mother read her stories by Shelley and Poe, and histories of the Borgias.”

“This is all rather tongue in cheek,” Mukuro said.

“With no friends to speak of, she would capture small animals to play with. Their skins were found nailed to the undersides of the furniture. Guests are not allowed to remove items as souvenirs,” the announcer said as Tsuna was looting the place bare. “Please proceed to the next room.”

The next red door popped open.

“Morticia was soon convinced her daughter was possessed,” the announcer intoned as torch traps activated in the mouths of the many fireplaces lining the next, long room. “Hannibal was certain he could beat the evil out of her. Morticia complained every morning of ghostly chills afflicting her in this very hall. Taking the advice of her psychic, she persuaded Hannibal to build fireplaces to drive the spirits from it.”

“Or just, you know, heat up the room?” Hayato muttered.

“We are not responsible for injuries of any guests attempting to crawl into the fireplaces. Please proceed to the next room.”

A Mr Gutsy was lurking at the other side of the flames, and summarily shot, after which Tsuna popped the lid on a switch box and pulled the switch. With the flames cut, they continued on. The next room had furniture attached to the ceiling and a chandelier on the floor, though there were some display cases were properly on the ground. One had a creepy monkey-with-cymbals in it, which he shot the head off of.

Just around the edge of the door, to the right, was a laser emplacement to go with the tripwire stretched in front of the door.

“Morticia’s psychic insisted that Lucy could be saved by driving out her evil spirits. Rooms such as this one were built to confuse the spirits, making it more difficult for them to find Lucy. One morning Hannibal came in here to find a doll that looked suspiciously like him swinging from a noose. Climbing on the ceiling furniture is strictly prohibited. Please proceed to the next room.”

The kitchen featured a Mr Gutsy and a Protectron behind the counter. The chef hat was a nice touch, and meant the Gunner using the place had to have hacked one of the attraction’s bots.

“Hannibal’s favorite cook quit when Lucy put mice in the stew. This is also where Lucy first attempted to kill her parents by poisoning the dessert. Hannibal walked with a cane after that. Lucy quickly learned to stay out of range of his swing. Guests are asked to refrain from using the kitchen spoons as swords and dueling with them. Please proceed to the next room.”

There was a flamethrower trap tucked next to the stairs, hidden by a stack of boxes at the far end of the counter, linked to a tripwire down at that end. The stained wood door opposite the base of the stairs, after being picked, led down to a utility area. The shelves were laden with clothes taken from the dead, and the dead who were sprawled in a heap behind another locked door. Various containers held weapons, ammunition, and scrap.

Back up the stairs, twice over, and through the red door led to a long hall with a turret at the end, and a door opening to a small square room, which in turn led to the gallery from the entrance.

“As we pass back through the parlor, notice the stairway going nowhere. This was yet another attempt by Morticia to confuse evil spirits possessing her daughter.”

Another trip wire, another gun emplacement, cleverly hidden by the furniture.

“It is not permitted to dangle small children over the railing as you proceed to the next room.”

His intuition warned him about the next room, so he said, “Stick very close to this wall on the other side, or _Edge_ once inside. Something not nice happens in here.”

The door slammed shut on its own as Ken walked through, so the remainder of them shifted over and immediately _Edged_.

“Madam Scarlotta conducted seances in this room for Morticia in an attempt to drive the evil spirits from her daughter. Lucy would sit in the room above this one and knock on the ceiling during seances,” the announcer said as gas began to haze the air.

“Madam Scarlotta once accused the little girl of trying to push her down the stairs. There is no need to be scared. Modern science has proven that ghosts are not real and seances are fake. When the Grandchester Mystery Mansion was sold at auction, several trick candles were found here,” the announcer announced, which coincided with the candles on a table behind the ropes to ignite, which set off the gas.

“Please proceed to the next room.”

The next room, long and bordered with shelving and display racks, at the top of some stairs, featured an Assaultron to be blown apart, as well as another Protectron.

“In this room you will see the collected artifacts from Lucy Grandchester’s short time on this earth. Replicas of these items may be purchased in the souvenir shop. What child would not want to play with a toy boning knife like the one Lucy used to skin small animals?”

A laser tripwire and Tesla trap were disarmed on their way toward the far end.

“For adults, functional replicas are available. When you are done browsing, please proceed to the next room.”

A bedroom was up next, of a sort. At least, one end of the long room had a double bed behind the usual ropes. There were also grenade bouquets dangling from the ceiling at varying heights. Tsuna stepped back a ways, ushering his family back, then sent in a combo clone, which triggered all those grenades to drop despite there not being anything visible as a pressure plate.

“After impaling his foot on a rusty spike that was mysteriously driven into his shoe, Hannibal came to Lucy’s room to punish her for the prank. We’ll never know for sure how it happened, but he was found with a pair of scissors driven through his eye and into his brain. Lucy claimed she was holding them in self defense as he tried to beat her with his cane. She said he tripped and fell onto the scissors. When asked why his fingers had all been cut off, she replied that it was so he couldn’t hold the cane again.

“Lucy’s mother was found dead in the master bedroom with a cloth doll stuffed in her mouth. Her wrists had rope burns, but no ropes were ever found. Lucy insisted that the doll was solely responsible because Morticia wouldn’t give her a kiss goodnight. Lucy was committed to an asylum. On her eighteenth birthday she escaped. Nine days later she was found hanging in the attic, dead from an apparent suicide. Please proceed to the next room,” the announcer announced as the red door popped open.

“They packed a lot of the story into a single room,” Chikusa said. “It throws off the balance, don’t you think?”

The next room was where the Gunner was waiting. He died approximately a second later.

The room itself had control consoles tucked into a corner, a terminal, a double bed, and a door with an exit sign over it. The terminal had two entries of interest to him. One mentioned that the Gunner used to be with Winlock and Barnes at the Mass Pike Interchange, another mentioned that a Minuteman had been lured in and killed, and the last mentioned the sound of a laughing little girl, which was creeping the guy out.

The non-exit door led to stairs up to the attic level, where a number of workbenches were. As Tsuna rounded the corner he saw that same little girl dashing off to the left, laughing again. The door tucked back there, hidden by the divider in place, led to a blank wall. Not a window was to be seen anywhere, which meant the dormers visible from the outside were mere decorations, or were hidden behind that blank wall.

The exit door, down a level, led to a fire escape-style staircase down to the ground, which concluded their adventure.

“Well, it was interesting,” Daemon said, “and a nice break. It does make me wonder about the ghost girl, though. She was far too young to have died at eighteen.”

“Having a ghost at all in this dimension is odd,” Xeul said.

Just outside the Galactic Zone was a corpse—surprisingly well preserved—with a holotape on it. The system encouraged him to read tiana’s log, so he did. There were two entries, and it only took reading the first to update the quest to locate star control.

Long story short, the girl was excited to get back to work on Star Control. The second entry made it clear that someone having taken so many cores from Star Control was a terrible idea, as the robots therein turned on them, treating them as hostiles.

To complete the picture there were two Mr Frothys nearby, both destroyed.

“Okay, we go in quiet, high, and take out every robot and turret we can find, whether they appear active or not. I don’t care at this point that they could be turned, because all it would take is some other idiot removing those cores to start another bloodbath. Teams of two, darlings. Let’s do this.”

Some time later they were heading to Star Control—after getting a Hidden Cappy at the top of the Space Walk (“R”)—which was just up the main path from the entrance they had arrived at. Tsuna ducked around the side to an employee area behind it to grab a star core he remembered as being back there, and grabbed the final Hidden Cappy (“S”) just outside the gate. 

The Starport Nuka building itself was three levels. Ground, where Star Control was (along with a set of power armor with a Nuka-Cola Quantum paint job, which he shifted to storage), first, which had the lift (and a star core in a display case), and the very top of the spire, which was an enclosed observation deck and only afforded a great view, along with a single star core.

Also inside the ground floor was a dead scavver and another star core.

At the center of the massive display of consoles was a terminal, the Star Control Mainframe. A minimum of one star core was required to initialize Emergency Operations Mode, so Tsuna started plugging in the cores he had.

The only reason most people ever found and plugged all of them in was to open the display case with that power armor. Tsuna was going to do it just so he could say he did it, and in case the Great Shuffler would get pissy otherwise.

The terminal, now functional, informed him that there were cores in:

#### (5) Galactic Zone Grounds  
(7) Nuka-Galaxy  
(4) Starlight Interstellar Theater  
(6) Vault-Tec: Among the Stars  
(6) RobCo Battlezone

One was at the base of the Space Walk, on a console tucked in behind a mesh wall. One was at the top of the ArcJet G-Force ride, which was right across from Nuka-Galaxy, and one in a control booth for Splashdown, which was just to the left of Nuka-Galaxy.

“The colony on Cola-V is under attack! Repeat: The colony on Cola-V is under attack!” they were informed as they entered Nuka-Galaxy. “We have confirmed reports of multiple hostiles! All pilots, get to your ships! Prepare for takeoff! Cadets, report to the Launch Bay. Cadets to the Launch Bay.”

There were multiple Mr Frothys in the queue area, and a Nukatron Sentinel. It must have been a popular ride given the sheer length of the queue gating and how it twisted. Two more Sentinels were in a control booth overlooking part of the queue, but as the glass was broken it was easy enough to destroy them before moving on.

Down in the boarding area were yet more Mr Frothys, a Mr Handy Greeter, and another Sentinel.

“And who gets to clean up all this blood? Me, that’s who,” the Greeter groused just before it was taken out.

The control booth tucked into a corner had a terminal which allowed him to turn on the emergency lighting, so he no longer had to feel like he was half blind. He hated Nuka-Galaxy because it consisted of so many levels to traverse, through employee-only areas, just to find those damn star cores.

“This is a long, boring slog with lots of shit shooting at us, so let’s find those damn cores and get out of here. That and pick up the Nuka-Girl outfit to add to the collection for display, and a medallion. We can always come back later to take the ride with the proper lighting, but it won’t really be that cool with all the robots and turrets destroyed.”

RobCo Battlezone was next, which was a death trap in the making as two of the cores were in the arena, and the maglock door would close behind them once they entered. True, they could just get them and shift out, but it would be foolish of them to leave any working robots behind that could be switched back over to military mode if some idiot removed the star cores again.

There was nothing stopping him from taking them all himself once he had completed the quest, and recycling them all to make it a non-issue. He would rather rely on Verde’s IFF, even if that meant installing it into a robot so he would feel assured the silly thing wouldn’t attack an innocent.

Next up was the Starlight Interstellar Theater, which was basically a drive-in movie theatre indoors, complete with cute little rocket ship seating, Mr Frothy waiters, a Sentry Bot Startender, Galactron Technician and Usher, and 50s-style horror flicks (it had been Sci-Fi Horror Madness Month when the bombs dropped).

The final six star cores were in Vault-Tec: Among the Stars, which was a guided tour through a display vault. As one might expect from Vault-Tec, even that innocent attraction had been used to experiment on people, including the people who worked there.

Immediately on entering was a large neon sign with the attraction name. To the left were two lifts, and to the right was a short flight of stairs up through a gear-shaped opening, not unlike an actual vault door, minus all the hardware or an actual door. It led into a hallway with points of light streamed on the walls.

“Join us on a journey into the future, where humanity has set out on a new voyage of discovery, seeing adventure among the stars,” an announcer invited them. Around the corner was a set, with robots to shoot, a fake rocket, space rocks, and an animatronic with a spacesuit (which Tsuna acquired).

“Acturus Prime, a frontier colony in the year 2291. Baked by the unrelenting sun, life on the surface of this remote, desolate world is all but impossible.”

A quick duck into a control room tucked away behind a space rock got him a star core, another space suit, and various loot. Back on track and around the corner they heard, “But life is possible … underground. Welcome to Vault-Tec’s Colony Arcturus. Welcome home.”

The path led through another gear opening to a standard vault entrance.

“With Vault-Tec’s modular construction techniques, new colonies can be established on almost any world in a matter of weeks.”

As they approached the bend, his vision went hazy for a few seconds.

“It’s a shame there are no Arcturus vault suits to acquire,” he commented as he ducked off the path and into an “airlock”, where another spacesuit was waiting to be nabbed.

The next stop, down a short flight of stairs, was an atrium-style room with a gallery overlooking a small, sad park on the level below.

“And these are no dark bunkers. Your colony will feature beautiful, expansive common areas, where you can relax in an Earth-like setting.”

Next on the tour, through a door with a residential sign overhead and down a flight of stairs, was a sample suite, complete with sight-hazing interruption.

“Step into your spacious private suite, equipped with all the comforts of home.”

He hopped off the path again to open a door tucked around the side, which led to a control room with a star core, fusion generator and fusion core, a holotape, and a terminal.

> “This is Luis Batemen reporting on week two of Project Consumer Guidance. Civilian employees are starting to experience extreme headaches, similar to the previous study. Luckily, the associated depression has not surfaced, so suicides aren’t expected to be an issue yet. The increase in subliminal messaging frequency continues to have little to no effect on many visitors. But the speed at which the park staff was affected does show that some level of success has been achieved. I recommend moving forward with the audio tours for the next project. Perhaps a higher frequency of messaging fed directly into a consumer who can focus will be more effective.”

The terminal was situated behind a one-way window, either so the technician did not feel closed in, or so they could directly observe visitors as they passed through the area.

> #### Experiment 001: Brainwave Disruption  
>    
>  Use of radiation scrubbers in the exhibit to emit an electromagnetic field that causes interference in the brainwave patterns of human subjects.  
>    
>  Expected Results:  
>    
>  Minor loss of motor control, temporary stupor, and forgetfulness.  
>    
>  Experiment 002: Subliminal Suggestions  
>    
>  Use of audio emitters to generate varying degrees of subliminal messaging overlaid with a specific frequency.  
>    
>  Expected Results:  
>    
>  Acceptance of suggestions causing subjects to perform involuntary actions. Headaches, depression, or other phenomena resulting from neurochemical release.  
>    
>  Experiment 003: Hypnotic Pheremones  
>    
>  Use of genetic modification on flora to release a pheremone-like airborne toxin which will be inhaled while passing by the emitters.  
>    
>  Expected Results:  
>    
>  Loss of independent thought, minor addiction, susceptibility to suggestion.  
>    
>  Experiment 004: Theta Radiation  
>    
>  Use of reactor modification to emit theta-band radiation in low, short doses.  
>    
>  Expected Results:  
>    
>  Drowsiness, extreme fatigue, potential paranoia from sleep deprivation.  
>    
>  Experiment 005: Long-Term Testing  
>    
>  Use of Experiments 001-004 on Hodgson, Grunner, Dallas, Bartlebee, and Langston to assess long-term effects.  
>    
>  Expected Results:  
>    
>  Varies by experiment (see Experiments 001-004).

A break in the wall over in the “kitchen” led to the reactor, which hazed his sight over again, but allowed him to acquire another space suit and a star core a little early. Another detour, through the child’s room, led to an office area.

One door in there led to the lobby, and required a staff key. One room held three star cores, which completed his set, and a terminal with five entries by J. Hodgson, who complained of visitor mishaps, Dr Bateman losing his keys (again), inexplicable anger for himself, along with a bad headache, memory loss, nosebleeds, and more visitors doing odd things like running off screaming or stripping down completely.

The tour continued through a look into hydroponics (with more sight hazing). “Enjoy a rich, varied diet, locally-sourced from your colony’s own hydroponic gardens. Just smell the freshness!”

And then around the corner into a lab set. “And with Vault-Tec’s cutting-edge science and technology, you can rest assured that your colony will have the resources to face any challenge.”

The proper door to the reactor was in there, but the path led to the exit zone.

“A thrilling adventure awaits. Imagine hundreds of colonies, spread throughout the galaxy … and beyond.”

Two more space suits were acquired from animatronics, and then it was back to a starfield corridor.

“Imagine a future among the stars. Imagine … Vault-Tec.” As they emerged into a lobby they heard, “For more information, or to sign up for the Vault program, please see a sales associate. Thank you, and enjoy your day here at Nuka-World.”

Tsuna nabbed a Park Medallion, then it was back to Star Control. Everything was plugged in, the central display case opened (not that he needed to), and they were done.

Except for Sierra Petrovita, N.I.R.A, and the Hubologists.

“This whole park complex,” Hayato said, “is bogus. I can’t begin to imagine why anyone would ever visit here more than a single time. Once you’ve seen it… There’s nothing to do, and far too much of it is geared toward small children. The most interesting thing in the entire place was seeing that Vault-Tec is still comprised of sleezy bastards without a conscience, willing to experiment even on children.”

“I blame all this being based on the game,” he said. “They could only afford to construct so much due to the game engine, and only so many units could be placed in the area at any given time. There’s too many things that simply don’t make sense, but if magicals can exist, well… Why not this nonsense?”

Sierra was waiting outside Bradberton’s office.

“I found the Hidden Cappys. Each had a letter.”

“Great!” she enthused. “Let me take a look at those letters.”

Tsuna handed her the park map he had scribbled the letters on the back of, the same letters that anyone with a brain could have figured out.

“Well, anyone who’s stared at Nuka-Cola merchandise as long as I have would get this one pretty fast,” she said. “The letters definitely spell ‘refreshing’. It’s … simpler than I was expecting.”

Ooo, the first chink in the hero worship?

“So it goes with the keypad there?”

“Yes, that keypad is the only way to open this door. It should lead to Bradberton’s office. I guess we just need to key in the ten numbers that correspond to the word ‘refreshing’. You did all the work looking for the Hidden Cappys, so you should be the one who gets to enter the code.”

He nodded and looked over to see Sin already entering them. A loud click was heard momentarily.

“That’s it!” Sierra cried. “The door’s unlocked! Let’s go inside!”

The ground floor was a reception area with a desk for a secretary type, a small seating area, a Nuka-Cola machine, WC—

“Wish I could have been here before the war. You know, just to see what it was like,” Sierra said wistfully.

—and a door leading to a boarded up back exit and a staircase leading upward. He had to wonder just how many bright and shining faces paraded through the place before the war, if Bradberton had actually entertained all those people, took a photo with them, shook their hands, and packed them off with a coupon for 10% off their next park visit. Or something.

Bradberton’s office was a loft, technically. Display cases lined the walls, a bookshelf (that clearly had a door behind it), a desk with terminal, another Nuka-Cola machine, and a wall safe.

“Wow! This is amazing.”

Girl has seriously low standards.

A holotape labeled “Nuka-Cola Clear” was on the desk, but he simply tucked that away as Sin picked the safe and, as he looked back the other way, a glowing red button made itself known, tucked against the side of the Nuka-Cola machine, where it would be hidden from casual view.

Sin handed over another holotape, labeled “General Braxton’s Visit”.

> “Look, Bradberton. I didn’t fly down from D.C. to get jerked around. You can either sign off on Project Cobalt, or I can walk right out that door.”
> 
> “This isn’t like deciding what colour bottle to pick for our next flavor, General,” Bradberton said. “You’re asking me to take my laboratories and my Beverageers, and basically turn them over to your team. I need assurance that my people and my facilities are going to be treated with the respect that they deserve.”
> 
> “You and I both know that’s a load of horse shit,” Braxton said, scoffing. “Stop treating me like one of your … ‘soft drink competitors’. I’m here representing the U.S. Military. I already told you you’d be well compensated. Now, cut the crap and tell me what you’re really after.”
> 
> “Fine. I want in on the military’s LEAP-X Program.”
> 
> “What? How the hell did you know about that?”
> 
> “Let’s just say you’re not the only one in this room that can throw his weight around in Washington, General. I’ve been following the program ever since its inception, and I have to say that I’m impressed.”

This is going to be a monkey’s paw situation, isn’t it.

Tsuna nodded slightly, keeping an eye on Sierra as she raced around enthusing over memorabilia.

> “The ability to keep a human in a state of veritable immortality using a machine? Now that’s something that I didn’t expect from the military. Look. You want me to agree to this proposal, then get me on the LEAP-X list, and I’ll sign whatever you want.”
> 
> “I always knew you were a greedy son of a bitch, John. But the last thing I expected to hear is that you were afraid of death. If you know so much about LEAP-X, then you know it’s in its infancy and there are a lot of kinks to be worked out. It isn’t as easy as throwing a switch and suddenly you can live forever.”

‘Tell that to Robert House,’ he thought.

> “Stop trying to talk me out of it. We both know the enemy is developing chemical and biological weapons and that my Beverageers are the top organic chemists in the world. Our countries are in a race where no one comes in second, General. So you need to ask yourself: can you really afford to stand here and say ‘no’.”
> 
> “You had this all figured out before I even arrived, didn’t you? Okay, fine. You want in one the LEAP-X Program, you’ve got yourself a deal. You know … maybe immortality is what’s best for you, Bradberton. It’d be a god damn shame to let that ego go to waste.”

Bradberton’s terminal had a reference to his “private sanctuary” that Vault-Tec built for him, plus a clue to the switch’s location, a message from Dr Leavitt regarding the use of the “extremely radioactive” strontium-90 in Nuka-Cola Quantum, and various other messages that proved beyond doubt that John-Caleb Bradberton was a cold-hearted bastard.

Tsuna then pointed at the “hidden” switch, which Ken helpfully thumbed, and the bookcase swung open to reveal a lift.

“Look at that! Mr Bradberton, you were one sneaky devil,” Sierra cried excitedly.

Down below were stairs down to a cement-construction room, with a half-flight up to a vault door. Around the corner was a ramp up to a closed and inoperable cargo door, with a forklift parked sideways in front of it.

Tsuna laughed when, on passing through the vault door, he saw the usual header of any other vault, saying, “Welcome Home,” minus the vault number or name. There was only a single door, which led to stairs down into the private sanctuary.

Overhead lights dimly illuminated a red carpet, which ended at a set of consoles. Console tables held bottles of Nuka-Cola, Nuka-World lunchboxes, souvenir cups and plates, and several books. To one side was a mint-condition red Corvega, while on the other was a motorcycle and more display cases. What were once lush velvet drapes in a dark red or burgundy hung everywhere.

At the back, to the left of the central consoles, was a small room filled with machines and consoles, all merrily blinking away in red and green. The terminal back there was … interesting.

> #### CEO Bradberton Eyes ONLY  
>  Hello, Mr Bradberton!  
>    
>  LEAP-X System Remote Connection Failure  
>  Contact LEAP-X Team Immediately  
>    
>  [Acquisitions]  
>  [Project Cobalt]

Acquisitions merely spoke of cola recipes Bradberton had purchased and re-branded. Project Cobalt had five entries under it, spanning from March of 2076 to April of 2077.

> #### 03-17-2076  
>    
>  General Braxton stopped by my office today. I already knew he was coming, my contacts in Washington D.C. saw to that. He asked for exactly what I expected: the use of Nuka-World's beverageers for a military chemical and weapons program. I told him I'd do it if he gave me the information on the military's LEAP-X (Life Extension And Prolongation) program. The look on his face when I asked that was priceless. As expected, he said yes. The moment the LEAP-X data arrives, I'm putting a team to work on it right away. It's obvious that this world is headed for the end and I intend to outlast it all.  
>    
>  08-27-2076  
>    
>  I had Vault-Tec modify my personal vault to accommodate the machinery required to keep the LEAP-X system running. It's costing me a fortune and I've had to divert money from the amusement park, but who cares. My money and the park won't be worth anything when the world is a smoking ruin. I've flown a few of LEAP-X's researchers down here to make sure the prototype works. I bet they're glad to still have a job, seeing as all the military's money got diverted to wartime resources. I'm hearing complaints from my Nuka-World team about the cutbacks, but they'll just have to make do.  
>    
>  10-20-2076  
>    
>  Meacham's work with Project Cobalt struck gold. His team came up with a custom isotope based on strontium-90 he's calling "Quantum". He believes he can use the isotope to weaponize almost anything in the military's arsenal. He's come up with a few prototypes like the "Nuka-Nuke" and we've even used Quantum to enhance one of the military's power armor suits. Ironically, Meacham believes we can use this isotope somewhat safely as an ingredient in a new Nuka-Cola soft drink flavor. By reducing most of the harmful side effects of the isotope, the Quantum will actually glow longer than the ingredients we use in Quartz and Victory. In fact, I've told Meacham to start distilling it immediately and call it "Nuka-Cola Quantum".  
>    
>  01-19-2077  
>    
>  The original intention of LEAP-X was to create a living bio-suit to preserve my body after it would normally expire, but now I've been told by those idiots on the LEAP-X team that it's not possible. LEAP-X requires so much power and so many special components, it can only accommodate no more than fifteen pounds of organic matter. That leaves me no choice. If I want to prolong my life, I'll have to have them preserve only my head. I've told them to proceed. I haven't come this far just to give up and await the inevitable.  
>    
>  04-02-2077  
>    
>  This is my final entry. Today, I will be undergoing the surgical procedure to have my head removed and transferred into the LEAP-X system. If anything should happen, I've instructed Peyton Huxley, my Executive Assistant, to handle my affairs. Peyton is the only one outside the LEAP-X team who knows about this procedure, and I am entrusting him to visit me daily and keep me informed of the events happening on the outside of my vault.

The other side of the center consoles was a locked vault door. A switchbox sat innocently on the wall perpendicular, to its right.

And then, the elephant in the room, John-Caleb Bradberton’s head-in-a-jar sitting atop the very center console. It was a bit frosty.

Sierra finally stopped obsessing over every tiny detail and came down the stairs. “Now this looks interesting.” She stopped dead on seeing the macabre display. “What on Earth? Wait … no … it can’t be!” She dashed forward and said, “That’s John-Caleb Bradberton! Or at least, it’s his head. Wow!”

“Who … who are you?” came a man’s voice via the speakers tucked in behind the draperies. “I haven’t seen a real human face in so long. I had given up all hope.”

Does that mean he’s seen inhuman ones?

“Oh my God!” Sierra shrieked. “It’s alive! He’s alive! My name’s Sierra, sir. I’m your biggest admirer! I love Nuka-Cola more than anything. This is such an honor!”

“You there, with the Pip-Boy. What are you doing here?”

“The contest. Solved the, uh, code, found the not-so-hidden switch, and here we are. You’re looking … less than whole.”

“I made a devil’s bargain, though I didn’t know it at the time.” The entire time he spoke his eyes remained downcast for some reason. Shame? Inability to raise them? “This was General Braxton’s plan all along. Damn the man! He called it Project Cobalt. In exchange for my weapon design, he would give me access to life-extending technology. I’m such a fool for taking him at his word. He never told me that this would be the price!”

Even a halfwit with a lick of common sense would know better than to agree to have their head chopped off and preserved in a tiny vault when he knew the world was going to hell and there probably wouldn’t _be_ anyone to come visit.

Desperate people do desperately stupid things. The Dark Dodo comes to mind.

“When something sounds too good to be true, it usually is,” he pointed out in a tone usually reserved for small children.

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve contemplated my folly for decades on end? I do not need some interloper to remind me of my greatest tragedy!”

“A … a weapon?” Sierra said haltingly. “I don’t believe it. Why would the genius who brought so much joy to the world want to make something destructive?”

“Genius is restless, madam! It must expand, seek new challenges, and explore new frontiers. So yes, a weapon.”

He speaks as if he came up with that shit personally and not his Beverageers.

“It was going to be a quantum-enhanced variant of the standard portable tactical warhead. In fact, the prototypes are stored in this very chamber. You can have them, on one condition. I want you to shut off the power to this machine that’s keeping me alive. I want to die.”

“What!? No!” Sierra shot him a desperate look, one begging for understanding.

“I’d want the same thing if I’d been so fucking stupid as to agree to what you did,” he said cheerfully. “Never considered the long term, did you? Yeah, I’ll shut it down, but not because I want your weapons. Not even an idiot deserves to remain in this personal hell you fashioned for yourself.”

“You can’t kill him!” Sierra objected. “He’s a great man! He invented Nuka-Cola, the best thing in the world!”

“Young lady, you don’t know what torment it is, being trapped here alone and staring at the same wall, decade after decade.”

How did he go from “madam” to “young lady”?

“Now please shut up while I talk to your more rational friend here.”

Translation: the one willing to do as I wish and whom I assume is just as much of a greedy bastard as I am.

“I realize that what I’m asking isn’t easy, but there’s something in it for you. When the power is cut, the door to the prototype storage room will open automatically. Take anything you want. I don’t care anymore. Just … please … set me free at last. I can’t bear this loneliness any longer.”

“Wait, wait, wait! I have an idea! Mr Bradberton wants to die because he’s lonely, right? Well, maybe I could stay with him. You know, keep him company, give him someone to talk to. He’s like a hero to me.”

“Sierra? Stop being so damn selfish and short-sighted. He’s been like this for over two hundred years. You might stay for a while, but you’d have to keep leaving to get food and water, or to go back to your museum. You could be killed out there. You will die, eventually, of old age if nothing else. And then what? He’s still stuck here, alone, with an endless future ahead of him of the hum of machinery and his own thoughts. Would you want that for yourself?”

“I couldn’t stand being a frozen head,” she said. “How could I drink Nuka-Cola?”

He huffed in disbelief, shook his head, and quirked a brow at his brother, who was standing at the ready. Daemon nodded and pulled the switch behind Sierra’s back.

“No! Mr Bradberton … I’m sorry,” she said when all the sounds stopped and the lights stopped blinking.

Daemon ducked into the storage room and looted it bare—except for the Nuka-Cola mixers that were back there for some inexplicable reason.

Nuka-Nuke schematics, the original Nuka-Cola formula—let me just get a picture of that—a custom fatman engraved with ‘Nuka-Nuke Launcher’, pre-war money, and yet more fucking Nuka-Cola. Daemon emerged from the storage room and handed over the original formula recipe.

“You wanted the Nuka-Cola formula? Here it is,” he said, holding it out.

“So it really was here,” she said, taking it. “I’m grateful, but don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you. You killed a man who was my greatest hero, a man who revolutionized the soft drink industry and whose creations put smiles on a million faces. Who the hell are you to just walk in here and destroy all of that?”

“Still being selfish, I see. This isn’t about what you _wanted_ , it was about what he _needed_.”

“…What he needed. I hadn’t thought of it that way. It’s just that… Never, not in my wildest dreams, did I think I’d get the chance to talk to Mr Bradberton in person.”

No sane person would.

“To get an opportunity like that and then have it snatched away… It hit me pretty hard. Still… I can’t overlook the fact that, for one glorious, shining moment, I got to meet the man who invented Nuka-Cola.” Sierra smiled tremulously. “I’ll never forget that. Not ever. And it wouldn’t have been possible without your help. So thank you.”

He nodded. “Now that you have the formula, are you going to put it in your museum?”

“I’m not a chemist, but I might try to brew some up, just for fun. If that fails, well, I’ve still got a new centerpiece for my collection. Here. I know it’s not much, but you really went above and beyond the call of duty. I think I’ll stick around here for a while and see what else I can find. By the time I’m done, I’m going to need a much bigger building to house my Nuka-Cola museum!” She forked over five hundred caps and started looking around.

I want that car, he wrote. As a reminder.

Of the price of greed?

Yep.

What are the odds she rips that head case off the console and takes it back to her museum?

He groaned as he started up the staircase.

They headed out and ran into Harvey outside the marketplace. “Hey, Harvey.”

“Holy shit, boss. That was some reckoning you pulled off. Never thought I’d say it, but I sure am glad you ended up at Nuka-World. That year we spent under the raiders won’t be easy to forget, but I never even dreamed we’d be gettin’ out of this with our freedom. We owe you so much… I don’t even know where to begin … besides sayin’ thanks.”

“That’s more than enough. You’re welcome. What’ll you do now?”

“I haven’t even taken a moment to think about that. Maybe now we can restore this place back to its former glory. A fair trading post with good people. And once word spreads about what you did here, no way raiders are gonna think about touchin’ this place any time soon.”

“Well, the turrets will help, and you can expect a Minutemen settlement nearby, as well. You’ll have allies to go along with word of what happened here.”

Harvey nodded and ducked into the marketplace, so Tsuna turned to N.I.R.A., which had ambled on over in the interim. He handed over the medallions, was “rewarded” with a Nuka-Cola Dark, and got trash-talked again. After a brief moment of serious contemplation toward the idea of shooting the thing repeatedly, at least to cripple the legs, he walked away.

“So…”

“I dunno,” he said as they exited the main gate of Nuka-Town U.S.A. “I was going to deal with the Hubologists, but I’m not sure I can take that kind of crazy at this point.”

“What would we have to do?” Chikusa asked.

“Clear out the junkyard—I know we’ve already been there, but a second pass wouldn’t hurt—walk back to their camp and clear out anything along the way, for reasons. Hand over a bunch of these silly space suits I’ve been collecting—because these people are honestly stupid enough to think they’re real—then help them with their test of the space shit—sorry, ship—out at the junkyard, which means that thing I picked up in that warehouse, plus fusion cores.”

“Wait, that ride on top of the heap?” Hayato said. “The Get Inside and Spin Till You Puke ride?”

“Uh huh. And if we put in four fusion cores instead of three, they end up dead during the test.”

“I have a better idea,” Sin said. “We write a note saying we’ve cleared the junkyard, leave that, the space suits, the component, and some fusion cores at their camp while they’re sleeping. If they manage to kill themselves, well…”

“All in favor?” he asked.

Hands shot up like bullets.

“All right, then. We’ll do that. In the meantime, let’s start on scrapping for the Minutemen settlement. I have no idea where the Institute children ended up after the evac, but we can at least make a home for the BoS ones. Hopefully they’ll grow up to not be such fascist twats.”


	16. λ34: 16: Nuka-World, Commonwealth

## λ34  
16: Nuka-World, Commonwealth  
“Winlock and Barnes couldn’t kill a squirrel with a rocket launcher.”

The wilted bud of a town behind and a little east of the monorail station was scrapped without mercy. Defensive walls were placed, thick enough to hold turrets and still provide a path for guards or spotters to walk, and the interior leveled out. The only entry was given a portcullis-style door of heavy iron. Anyone trying to break in would need to bring ladders to scale the walls with, assuming they weren’t shot to pieces by the turrets. Or, if they were particularly clever, tunnel under from a distance, very, very quietly.

An apartment building went up in very little time, with the usual two-bed, one-bath room configuration—though a barracks of sorts was constructed for the children, so they would have the comfort of each other, and potentially a more familiar situation at the start. The usual large kitchen plus communal dining went in, storage, as well as a half dozen empty, flat-roofed structures intended for shops or crafting or whatever the hell they decided to use them for.

Somewhere in there Sierra bailed on Bradberton’s vault to get sustenance, and they shifted the Corvega out to the λ34 section of storage, along with the motorcycle.

A greenhouse with hydroponics, plenty of condenser/purifiers, a pen for brahmin, a Mr Mechanic robot, manufacturing for basic weapons, armor, and ammunition, and so forth were placed. All told it could easily handle fifty people, perhaps more if they felt like squeezing a bit.

A quick step to the Red Rocket and they were hiking across the bridge to go speak with Garvey. His family, lovable trolls that they were, set up as a brass band behind him, so he could walk into Sanctuary in style.

“So, we got that settlement set up, but there is one issue,” he opened with.

Garvey blinked at him owlishly, then at the band, and wiggled his laser musket indecisively. “Issue?”

“Yeah, see, when we blew the Brotherhood of Steel ship out of the sky, we were nice enough to kidnap the kids on it beforehand. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t having the deaths of those children on my conscience. We were thinking of placing them at the Nuka-World settlement, since it’s kind of far away from much of anything familiar. That being so, we need adults sent there who’d be okay with the kids being there, or even happy to have them, and look out for them.”

“Kids?” came a voice from behind. Jun was standing there, looking cautiously hopeful.

“Yes. Six of them.”

“I’d go,” Jun said immediately. “They’d never replace my son, but…”

“Jun… What about Marcy?” Garvey asked.

“I… I dunno, really. I’ll ask, of course I’ll ask. If she won’t, well, we won’t, but…”

He nodded at Jun, then handed over a rough map to Garvey. “You probably won’t need this, as the place is pretty unmistakable. When people get off the monorail, they just have to look away from Nuka-World, to behind the station. You can’t miss the walls we put in place. Right now some of my people are there, keeping guard.”

And by people he meant combo clones.

“Well, we got an extra ten people right now who need a place,” Garvey said. “We found room for them temporarily and were going to figure out which settlement to send them to, so this might be perfect. Let me go talk to them.”

Clearly, the famiglie were kicking ass when it came to handling the Mechanist’s errant Robobrains. Though why so many had showed up at once to Sanctuary… Maybe he should just chalk it up to providence.

While they were waiting they wandered into the dining hall to sit down and drink some refreshing Nuka-Cola Clear, instruments mysteriously disappearing on the way. The Nuka-Cola Clear was _so clear_ it was almost as if they were drinking plain water, which they were. Tsuna had plans to offload their truckload of Nuka-Cola varieties on the various settlements, just to get rid of it all. He had plans to place one bottle of each variety in the λ34 section of storage, but that was it.

Knowing what he knew about Bradberton’s dubious and/or unethical practices, he was not about to drink any of it himself.

“I think I’ll promote Garvey to Lieutenant General. He _is_ my second in command within the Minutemen, after all,” he said airily.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Heul darling,” Mukuro said. “Though I hope you don’t plan to cook for him as a treat. You might ruin him forever on Wasteland cooking.”

“Yeah, that would be unfortunate. Though at some point, if and when our friends start trading on the outside, the Wasteland might also be ruined for current Wasteland cuisine.”

Garvey poked his head in, no doubt wondering where they had gotten off to, then trotted in to come stand next to his table. “They’re game, all ten of ’em. They, uh, wouldn’t mind an escort, though.”

“We can do that, Lieutenant General Garvey,” he said. “Have them get prepped and we can set out first thing in the morning.”

Garvey gave him another owlish blink, then nodded and trotted off a bit unsteadily.

Tsuna was starting to wonder if the man was taking nips out of a flask while on duty and had overindulged.

“So we’ll just have to coordinate getting those children there,” Xeul said, absently tossing up a Mist barrier. “The timing, I mean. So that they’re there and asleep, but will wake shortly.”

“The Wiggenweld Potion takes an hour or so once administered to fully take effect, so it should be all right,” Daemon said. “Soon as they exit the station we can dose them, and by the time we’ve disappeared into the sunset…”

“I sure as fuck don’t want to be there when those kids wake up,” Hayato said. “The confusion, the possible crying and hysteria… Yeah, no.”

“You know what’s missing in this dimension?” he said.

“Aside from decent food, clean air, clean water…?” Ken obligingly asked.

“Musicians. They’re all relying on old recordings for their stations, shit from as far back as the 1930s. The only unfamiliar music I’ve heard was in the Goodneighbor subway station, and that was relevant to now. The classical station was blown up. The only instrument I recall seeing was at the church, and that poor pipe organ was ruined.”

“Aside from the radio there’s no real entertainment,” Chikusa said. “Except the odd pool table here and there. Those games at Nuka-World mostly don’t function. So what could we add that isn’t too odd?”

“And on a side note,” Sin said, “we haven’t accounted for classrooms, either. For kids.”

“I wonder if it’s even possible for the Fabricators to make decent instruments,” Mukuro added. “Projectors and screens for movies or educational material. Like a combination theatre/classroom. A way to even record material for them.”

“Let’s … write up some proposals,” he said. “We can’t do everything. It’s just not possible. But we can present the ideas, and maybe it gives the famiglie another thing to trade, as I don’t expect they’d be trading their own supplies of films, shows, and video games, not when most of those are completely anachronistic.”

“We could skip back over to Nuka-World and add a classroom, though,” Sin said. “And possibly an office with a list of jobs available at that settlement they can fill one by one, marking them off as they go. I’m starting to hope we can get something set up so the settlements can communicate more in real time, via terminals, rather than relying on getting someone to the Castle so the station can broadcast a request for assistance for whoever.”

“If so many people are ending up here, perhaps an actual hotel,” Chikusa said. “Like, ten to twenty basic rooms, a transient center. The subway stations have two rooms each, ten caps a night, but that’s far too limited and too far away.”

“We have been a bit blasé, I suppose. Not really thinking enough about the reality of living here for the average Wastelander. Right, let’s make some time,” he said, brows going up, “and set up a classroom at the Nuka-World settlement. After we’ve escorted these folk to Nuka-World, we could check in with Verde, not only for a floorplan, but to see how he’s gotten on with that satellite.”

“Should we make a settlement at the Transit Center?” Mukuro asked. “It would help keep that open for travel back and forth.”

He nodded. “Good idea, and yes. So, plans. Classroom, escort, Verde, settlement, proposals, mostly in that order.”

The Mist barrier was dropped and they made conversation about doing a sweep around Sanctuary to clear out any new hostiles for Jun’s benefit, as he was back at his kitchen/bar, then they trundled off outside and disappeared into the woods.

A quick shift had them back in Nuka-World to set up a classroom for those kids in an open spot, complete with child-friendly desks and chairs, a teacher’s desk, and a handy sign on the outside so no one got confused about what the room was intended for.

Then they shifted back and returned with a few radstags they had been lucky enough to encounter and take down, so that Sanctuary had some “fresh” meat for their meals. They kindly hung those up for Jun, then trundled back out of the dining hall to see about making a transient hotel down near the bridge.

It would have made things far simpler if the “main” Minutemen settlement was more central, but they had to work with what they had, rather than pipe dreams. Central would have meant Cambridge, and they had already blown a huge portion of that off the landscape.

“If we ever have to do this again,” he said, “I think we need to at least _consider_ handling the Institute differently.”

“What, like take away all their toys and set them back decades?” Hayato said.

“Something like that. In the game it was one thing. Don’t get me wrong, I still get choked up over that part just in a game, so much destruction, so many stubborn people presumably refusing to evacuate. But blowing up their ivory tower is just…

“Their tech combined with something like the Nuka-Gen Replicator. They could potentially repopulate the animals, for one thing, assuming there were enough samples to work with. Make an actual stab at cleaning shit up, like we’ve been trying to do. Not just burrow deeper and write the surface world off as unfixable, even as they take and take and ruin people’s lives.”

“To get that radical of a change of policy would require major reprogramming mind-fuckery, Heul,” Daemon said. “We don’t normally go that far down the rabbit hole.”

He sighed. “And it’s doubtful we’d ever arrive early enough to steer policy away from this bullshit. Even if I was in control when the boy was snatched, we’d have a long con to run. Replacing the body in there with a fake, so we could insert ourselves into the Institute and gradually introduce new ideas… Well, it’s something to think about, how we could do this differently, given the opportunity and alternate timing.”

To get his mind off of that, he suggested they get on with the Sanctuary “hotel”, so they got to work on breaking down the two houses near the bridge, one on either side of the road, in preparation for making a proper gate, reception, and rooms for a transient population—visitors or those waiting to be directed to a settlement to live at.

Xeul briefly opened a window and acquired a jukebox from the Super Duper Mart.

His brow went up.

“Wondering if we can replace the tracks in this thing with something else.”

“I have plenty of instrumental music in my collection. Those are just holotapes in there, so…”

By the time night had fallen they had finished scrapping, so they left off for the time being and trundled over to the dining hall/bar to sit and sketch out a plan for the new structure, or start making notes for various proposals.

The next morning they split. Team A (Tsuna, Sin, Mukuro, and Ken) stayed to start on the hotel, and Team B escorted the settlers to Nuka-World, and that included Jun and Marcy Long. Presumably they had found replacements for their respective jobs, but if not, Sanctuary would be scrambling for new people for cook and logistics.

He knew that as soon as Team B got near to the end of their monorail ride, they would briefly replace themselves with clones so they could shift the kids into place and dose them with Wiggenweld Potion, then swap back for the short trek to the settlement. The people who ended up living there could think up a name, as Samsara was fresh out of ideas.

The other inhabitants of Sanctuary politely ignored them producing things out of thin air again and the hotel went up in record time, especially once Team B returned (rather faster than should have been possible) and added to their workforce.

“Lieutenant General Garvey,” he said cheerfully. “The transient center is complete. You now have a hotel of sorts for visiting traders—complete with brahmin pen—or people waiting on a settlement to move to, and you should find someone to man the desk there. That being said, we will be setting up a settlement at the Nuka-World Transit Center, in order to keep the monorail clear on this side for use. We’ll get back to you on that.”

“Uh, excellent work, General. Always happy to hear news like that.”

He nodded, flashed a victory sign, and trundled off before Garvey could think to politely insist that he handle any favors.

Verde and his crew had made excellent progress on the “borrowed” satellite, to the point that they had a fabrication plan, so Tsuna opened up a window to where it had been “borrowed” from, approximately two seconds after they had acquired it, and put the original back. An extra shipment of food in stasis boxes was quietly shifted to Bael’s home as an additional thanks.

“And here are the floor plans,” Verde said once that had been handled. “As for the satellites…”

“Yeah, we’d need a decent telescope so we can see where we’d need to shift to, plus proper space suits. Or we could acquire those from the dimension we got the Fabricators and Recyclers from.”

“I’ve already fabricated suits for your use,” Verde said. “And a telescope. It’s not an especially powerful one, but it’s good enough for this purpose.”

“Should we be placing one over Nuka-World as well, you think?” Ken asked. “I mean, we could make modified RobCo terminals with a satellite uplink, so the Minutemen settlements could communicate better, like we were talking about. Put in a reception desk at each settlement we’ve already done, and new ones, so anyone coming in looking for a home could be directed far more efficiently.”

“We would need to,” Verde said, “as my lab will be over there.”

“Ah, right.”

“Are we ready to do this, then? We can handle the Nuka-World one after the lab is built.”

Samsara got to experience the novelty of spacewalking again, this time with no station nearby to draw comfort from (however much of a horror show waiting to happen that place had been) and satellites were positioned in geosynchronous orbit over the Commonwealth. One would have been enough, but for the sake of redundancy (in the event of another freak meteor event), they placed several.

“While we’re doing some building, will you figure out the Minutemen RobCo terminals?” he asked Verde.

“Certainly. They could use ham radios, but terminals would allow for them to keep better records.”

“Awesome. Let’s go get this done, then,” he said, eyeing the plans. “We can do the settlement afterward, plus adding those terminals to all the already established ones. If nothing else, if we ever end up in this situation again, we’ll have already worked out a lot of the kinks.”

They decided on the northwest side of the valley for Verde’s lab, far enough away from the power plant and Dry Rock Gulch to give some distance, and set into the mountainside for stability, even though it meant a lot more effort on their part in terms of cutting through all that stone.

Hayato got quite a workout with his Storm Flames. But then, so did Fon, recruited for the project. The man seemed happy to do something with his flames unrelated to offing defects or that wasn’t purely destructive.

“This is a pleasant change,” Fon said, serene smile in place, though that one seemed genuine rather than an effort to drive other people into losing their shit and flipping tables. “I could almost see a future in construction—or at least, excavation—and scrapping.”

“It would be an interesting turn of events in terms of flame usage. Storms with excavation or scrapping. Lightnings with barriers to hold back water to place walls, perhaps. Or a Rain to freeze standing water to more easily get it out of the way, or possibly other liquids.”

Fon hummed as he neatly sliced a horizontal cut into the rock face. “Something to consider. We all, at this time, have unique opportunities.”

“No more Triads, for one?” Chikusa said.

Fon nodded, his smile widening a touch. “No more Triads. Based on how it feels when I cut through this rock, it should be exceptionally stable as a base for Verde’s lab.”

Hayato nodded. “Getting the same impression. And while we’ve not been here long, there’s been nothing about earthquakes or the like.”

Ken snorted. “The closest thing any of us have gotten to an earthquake here is a behemoth stomping around, or a deathclaw, or someone in power armor hitting the ground.”

Tsuna, who was looking at the plans, said, “Verde has probably worked up some kind of stabilizers for any experiments too delicate to risk jarring.” He paused to send a quick message to Verde about the possibility of using Institute tech to “print” skin for grafting to help burn victims and possibly non-feral ghouls. “I guess an entire building could be protected that way, but if there’s little seismic activity…”

“So what new hostiles are in this locale?” Fon asked.

“Oh, plenty,” Sin replied. “Ants, both flying and not, bloodworms, which burrow, brahmiluff, which are mutated bison, buffalo, and water buffalo, crickets, rats, gazelles, and a variant of mirelurk they’ve been calling a Nukalurk, because they have a pleasant blue glow, like Nuka-Cola Quantum.”

“Do you plan to teach any of the Mists how to do what you can?”

He shrugged. “Which part? Oddly enough, the only ‘outsiders’ I’ve taught have been alternates of Daemon. But then, we do tend to lean on him for support. Not so much for ourselves, but…”

“But for your alternates,” Fon said with a nod. “Something for something. And you have already saved our existence with some of those powers, twice over for the Arcobaleno. Perhaps teaching us how to use the Vindice portals went above and beyond. And perhaps some, having witnessed your creativeness, might work toward figuring it out for themselves.”

“Local Daemons also take payment in my cooking—more like demand it—but I’m happy enough to provide. We’ve yet to meet anyone who’s duplicated that trick aside from Sin, and as we don’t know exactly when he became linked to my soul, there’s just no way of knowing.”

Fon nodded as he sliced through another section of rock. “Because those powers, some of them, might be an extension of your soul. Them channeling through you, as you are their home, quite literally.”

It sounded like a plausible theory. To some extent, anyway. Or rather, not all of his “powers” required such bonding.

“I try not to think too hard about how utterly weird it sounds that our souls basically reside in Heul’s,” Hayato said. “It’s pretty cozy, though.”

“I have never heard it described that way,” Fon said, “but most guardians aren’t even harmonized. Most never know that supposed bliss.”

He shrugged. “I honestly had no idea what the big deal was about Sky Flames and harmonization until Daemon tried to explain it to me, and even then it sounded hokey.”

“Like the romantic drivel in many a book,” Fon said with a nod.

“Yeah. But then I met certain people and I started wondering, what it would be like. Just … nothing actually did happen until after I died again.”

“It honestly surprises me at times that you all aren’t raving mad,” Fon said, sparing a moment to look at him directly before turning his attention back at the stone.

“I did go mad. Once. Flipped my shit and killed off several famiglie—they deserved it—to work out any kinks in my technique. Then I went after the big guns. Checkers showed up and literally frightened me to death after a conversation—I’m being generous when I call it that—just brimming with contempt and a holier-than-thou attitude. I still wonder how he reacted when my disguise failed and he realized he had just killed the last blood Vongola, and a child, at that.”

“For all we know,” Daemon said, “the Great Shuffler stepped in at that point and provided a buffer, so to speak? Heul can’t be much entertainment if he’s raving, right? All those hilariously stupid deaths wouldn’t mean as much if Heul couldn’t react to them with pithy comments and eye rolls.”

“How have the kids been?” Mukuro asked.

“They are well. And they no longer need fear the attempts to use them as they were subject to previous to entering the sphere of Vongola’s influence. Or yours, rather, I should say.”

It was … a shame. Certain people were not approached, such as Takeshi, Ryohei, and so forth. They weren’t mafia. Takeshi’s father was retired mafia, but… Hibari was in a similarly peculiar position when it came to a “legacy” of organized crime, but being a Cloud, he was the sort to go down defending his territory to the bitter end. And they had no business with people like Hana and Haru. Tsuna had stayed well away from so many people that he could not claim to know much of anyone except as faces in the crowd.

As Verde had said, he couldn’t save billions of people.

It did make him realize, well after the fact, that his own mother was probably of Vongola blood in that dimension, but with no one knowing that, and her being a complete airhead… Not enough time for her to re-marry, have another child, pray it was a Sky… With the Tsow dead, she was probably either wearing blinders against reality (“He’s just on one of his jobs in the Antarctic and will be back soon enough.”) or in a downward spiral of depression and barely able to function.

“Nana,” he muttered.

His family turned to look at him.

“Holy shit,” Hayato said. “We didn’t even think of that. She’s probably…”

Fon’s brow went up, curious, but not so impolite as to directly ask.

Tsuna grimaced. “In one dimension we got curious. I look so much like Nana, but also so much like Giotto? We did a heritage test. She was descended from Giotto, too. She was Vongola by blood, just no one ever had reason to suspect, or the tools we had access to to figure it out.”

Fon adopted a politely plastic professional smile, the one a doctor wore just before he informed you of terrible news. “Sawada Nana, as it turns out, did not last long after the death of her husband.”

“…I see. And of course, Reborn knows I view the woman as an android or cardboard cutout in the background, and didn’t think to mention it. Huh…”

Once the rock had been appropriately sliced—all the pieces were set aside to be used for something else, at some point—they were able to get on with laying the foundation of sorts. Cabling would run under the actual flooring, through the walls… Nice and tidy and neat, with only outlets for electrical and LAN showing, as well as the usual lighting.

They took turns (Fon excepted) playing barrier dome person with Earth Flames whenever it rained, so as to protect the unfinished ground floor. A week into the project a message arrived from Verde saying he had the Minutemen terminals done and a fabrication plan could be picked up at any time.

Also that he was redesigning the Famiglie version of the Pip-Boys so they could transfer files in addition to sending and receiving messages. It should make sharing fabrication plans much easier if the user could connect to a file server and grab anything new to update their local Fabricator with.

The teleportation room was the first one to be finished, if only so Verde could pop over to eye things up, make the odd tweak to the plans, and generally enthuse.

“I believe they intend to turn my current lab space into an infirmary,” Verde had informed them. “Or at least part of it. I do take up a lot of space, and surely they won’t need that much.”

“They can always convert some of it to storage, or classrooms,” Chikusa replied as he slotted another wall panel into place.

Verde had given them plans for his personal version of metal I-beam-like studs to fit into tracks, already with holes for the wiring and pipes, and panels that slid into place from above. It meant the walls were slightly thicker than standard construction, and every wall had evenly-spaced, horizontal metal strips, but the effect was interesting overall.

The compound walls were of a different style. Quite tall (to account for the places where they were up on a rock bed) and curved at the top, almost like a question mark with the top flattened, so a walkway could be emplaced, with slanted square platforms cut in every fifteen feet meant to hold turrets.

It made him remember Covenant in the game and wonder what they should do about the situation.

“What is it?” Daemon asked, having clued in to his sudden moment of indecision.

“There’s a settlement in the Commonwealth, called Covenant. On the surface they look normal enough, though suspicious of outsiders. They’re comprised of people who were in some way harmed by synths. Everyone who wants access has to take a test, which seems to be bastardized from the G.O.A.T., or Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test, the more normal vaults used. They call it the SAFE test.”

“And if they suspect you’re a synth?” Mukuro asked.

“Yeah, well, then you get denied, and you and/or your caravan get quietly kidnapped in the night, to be hauled off to their secret facility and experimented on so they can refine their test and more accurately expose Gen-3 synths to eliminate.”

“So the choices are to ignore it, deal with it personally, or set the Railroad on it,” Ken said.

“Essentially.”

“I vote for letting the Railroad do it,” Sin said. “It is their thing, though one step removed.”

“Yeah,” Hayato said. “It’s not quite down their lane, but on the sidewalk. Close enough for me.”

“If nothing else, it would alert the Railroad that those synths they’ve been ‘saving’ by giving them new memories may have been caught by these people and killed, which sort of defeats the point,” Chikusa said. “Making them forget is one thing, but when that comes back to bite them, either at Covenant, or later when people notice they aren’t aging…”

“It could push that flaw into their faces?” Xeul said. “Hm. I’d say we launder it by pushing it through one of the safehouses via a tourist, but we’d need to do some spying to figure out how to best make that believable.”

“Odds are, whoever goes, the people of that settlement and facility will likely end up dead,” he said.

Fon wandered back in from a bathroom break and paused, sensing the atmosphere.

“One of you hunt around to see if what’s happening there is what I think is happening there,” he said. “Only after we have that established do we move to the next step. We can figure out the best vehicle to get the Railroad to handle the issue, as per your suggestion. And I think we should take a break. If my mind is wandering…”

Verde, Shoichi, Spanner, and some minions were installed at the new lab complex a few weeks later, which freed them up to go handle a settlement at the Nuka-World Transit Center. That was far more normal in terms of effort. Rip down the mostly defunct parking garages, build with newly fabricated parts, and voila, a brand new settlement for Garvey to find people for. It also received the very first Minutemen terminal.

A group of combo clones was left to guard the place in the absence of its new owners, and they stepped over to the Nuka-World settlement long enough to install a terminal, then to the Red Rocket so they could trundle over the bridge into Sanctuary. His family decided to be trolls again and started up the brass band to announce his arrival, which saw Garvey skitter into view with an owl-eyed look, then move to meet them halfway.

“Lieutenant General Garvey,” he said expansively. “How delightful to see you. We come with several bits of news. First, there is a new settlement at the transit station for you to populate, which leads me to the second piece of news. That is to say, a terminal devised specifically for settlements under the banner of the Minutemen.”

“I… Okay?” Garvey said confusedly.

“The terminal has a satellite uplink. Just the fact that my Pip-Boy has a working GPS told me there had to be functioning satellites up there. So, this terminal can access those. The point being, each settlement can message each other, once we finish the deliveries. Say one of them just picked up several new settlers, but there aren’t any beds? Send a message out. Someone can claim them, reserve beds for them, and those settlers get directions to their new homes after being given provisions for the journey.

“The Castle can be incorporated into this, maybe as a training ground or something, I dunno. New settlers who aren’t immediately needed to man a job could go there, get basic training, maybe how to handle the artillery, and then return to their settlement. No one would be forced, but it sounds like a good option to have open.

“I mean, most people can fire a gun, it’s just point and shoot. Hitting a target, on the other hand…” He shrugged, ignoring the part where he had been one of those poor buffoons before Chikusa’s timely suggestion. “And who would expect a fresh to the farm settler to have a clue how to handle the artillery we’ve added to the various settlements, right?

“So, we’re gonna set this terminal up at the hotel reception, give whoever is manning it a quick lesson in usage, and then we’ll see about similarly outfitting the other settlements in the network. Oh, and the transit center settlement can handle a good fifty people, so you should probably send the next batch there.” He flashed a victory sign, spun on his heel, and trundled off to the transient building to deal with the terminal.

As they walked he said, “How do you feel about putting on a musical show this evening? It really is odd there’s but a single person in all of the Commonwealth who bothered to write new music and lyrics to go with it. Maybe we can’t get the best quality instruments out of a Fabricator—not that we’ve tried—but maybe these poor sods will add something to their musical library that isn’t hundreds of years old?”

“Sure,” was the general consensus.

The terminal was placed and hooked up, the woman stationed at the front desk duly tutored in its use, and they wandered off again to make a stage mysteriously come into being, one concealed by tarps hung from from a metal framework, mostly to (presumably) drive up curiosity as to what they were doing.

The settlers did not and could not know a Bounding Box went up to ensure no one got too close, as well as spells to ensure no sound escaped the confines of the enclosed stage.

Sin was radiating cheerful sunniness as they set things up—“It’s the closest thing to normal we’ve experienced since we got here,” was his explanation—and shortly thereafter they had the lights up, a dramatic backdrop and sides (only the front would be removed for the show), the various instruments placed, and so forth.

Once night fell they popped open the front and took their positions. A single light was turned on at the very front and a music box switched on to draw people in. Garvey, of course, stalked on over, laser musket at the ready, but decided there was no threat and took a seat instead. He was followed by various other settlers, who also chose to avail themselves of the seating.

When the first completed its tune, a second music box was turned on, this one with the base melody for the piece they were going to play. As soon as the first note hit, a single light above Tsuna switched on to highlight him as he began his part on the hammered dulcimer.

Ken was highlighted next, on drums, then Hayato on the harp. And finally, Sin on guitar.

Their audience sat spellbound, most likely never having heard anything like it in their lives.

They moved on to a few more numbers, shamelessly stolen from the original artists, adding various other members of Samsara on various other instruments (such as an old typewriter being used as a type of percussion).

Tsuna smiled, Samsara bowed, and all the lights went out, masking them in darkness again, which also mostly hid them dropping the front tarp back into place like a curtain.

“I think,” he said, “we should handle two odd tasks, much as I’m not exactly thrilled by the idea.”

“Do tell,” Daemon purred.

“Two potential companions, each with a serious problem. And that’s assuming they haven’t already fucked off or died.”

“Why them?” Chikusa asked.

“The one has a sick son. He came here for various reasons, but that was a big push, apparently. He’s looking for a potential cure, and it’s at Med-Tek Research. Though in the game he stayed in the Commonwealth rather than ferry that cure to his boy personally—not something I ever approved of—I don’t know if he would here.

“The other is a cage fighter at the Combat Zone, addicted to various chems. She’s well on her way to dying from it, if she hasn’t already. But there’s a cure of sorts, that she mentions once she feels comfortable enough. And that would lead us to … Vault 95, I think? I forget. Another nasty experiment by Vault-Tec, but considering they have a chair there that allegedly cures addiction in a way that Addictol can’t…”

“Combat Zone? The place with the dude who was passing intel to the Institute?” Ken said.

He nodded. “Tommy Lonegan? Something like that. They both have the usual tragic backstories and are in need of help. But that’s assuming that too much time hasn’t gone by already. We have sorta been all over the map.”

“Well, you have yet to be summoned for the grand adventure to Far Harbor, so,” Mukuro said. “We can always go check. If the Great Shuffler gives a fuck about the little people, I expect we’ll be just in time for both of them. If not, we’ll know for if we ever get landed in one of these again.”

“In that case, let’s head to Goodneighbor.”

The Third Rail, the repurposed station under the balcony which Mayor Hancock had given his little speech on, had once been a subway stop. Inside, standing near the stairway leading down, was a ghoul dressed in a clean black suit, crisp white shirt, black bow tie, and a black hat.

“Hancock says newcomers are welcome in the Third Rail. Go on in.”

Tsuna nodded and continued on, down the stairs, a turn to the right, and down the next set. A bar was set up down there, tended by a Mr Handy wearing a bowler hat, and a dark-haired woman in a red sequin dress stood atop a makeshift stage, singing into a microphone. Chairs and sofas were scattered about for the patrons, as well as regular and coffee tables.

Off to the right (when facing the bar) was a short hallway into the room where MacCready hung out, so it was to there he went.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready,” a man could be heard saying. As the man and his companion were walking into that room back there, his face could not be seen, but Tsuna knew the two were Winlock and Barnes.

“I was wonderin’ how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock,” MacCready said from his perch on a chair. “It’s been almost three months. Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ rusty.”

Whereas MacCready was dressed in a damaged duster and wore something like plain green military fatigues underneath, with ammunition and pouches strapped to his thighs, the two others wore camouflage and berets. MacCready’s headgear was a military cover, with rifle rounds strapped into place.

“Should we take this outside?” MacCready added.

“It ain’t like that,” Winlock said. “I’m just here to deliver a message.”

MacCready seemed remarkably unconcerned as he took a swig of his drink. “In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good.”

At least he had the sense to, Daemon commented. The ones we’ve encountered so far really do shoot just about anything that moves.

“Yeah, I heard,” Winlock said. “But you’re still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn’t going to work for us.”

And you won’t, either, Sin wrote. They act like they own this whole area in terms of mercenary work. I can’t see the famiglie standing for that.

“I don’t take orders from you, not anymore. So, why don’t you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can.”

“What!?” the other man said. “Winlock, tell me we don’t have to listen to this shit…”

“Listen up, MacCready. The only reason we haven’t filled your body full of bullets is that we don’t want a war with Goodneighbor. See, we respect other people’s boundaries. We know how to play the game. It’s something you never learned.”

“Glad to have disappointed you.”

Once again I have to wonder why these people don’t seem to pay attention to the huge group of observers.

Tsuna shrugged slightly. I chalk it up to game mechanics.

“You can play the tough guy all you want. But if we hear you’re still operating inside Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?”

“You finished?” MacCready said.

“Yeah … we’re finished. Come on, Barnes.” Winlock turned away and headed out, Barnes matching him.

MacCready shook his head and cracked open another Nuka-Cola to drink. Tsuna took that as his cue to approach properly.

MacCready didn’t even look up when he said, “Look, man. If you’re preachin’ about the Atom, or lookin’ for a friend, you’ve got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun … then maybe we can talk.”

“Sounds more like you might need a hand in keeping those animals off your back. But sure, let’s go with that. A hired gun. What’s your asking price?”

MacCready looked up and paused. “Seems to me like you have plenty of guns on hand. Why would you need me?”

Tsuna snorted. “Dude, I’m trying to hire you. Why are you asking questions like that? Do you even have what it takes? Or did those two cow you?”

MacCready scoffed. “Those two? They’re a couple of morons looking to climb the ladder of success by steppin’ on everyone else on the way up. S’not a surprise, though, that’s how it goes when you run with the Gunners. If you’re worried about those two, don’t be. Winlock and Barnes couldn’t kill a squirrel with a rocket launcher. But you… How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?”

“You don’t, I suppose. But I do have caps I’m willing to part with, and my word.”

“Okay, hotshot. Price is two hundred fifty caps … up front. And there’s no room for bargaining.”

Tsuna tilted his head toward Hayato, who paid the man.

“All right, boss… You got yourself an extra gun. Lead on.”

Tsuna smiled and headed off. He waited until they were outside of Goodneighbor to make introductions, then chose a direction at random to go find trouble at.

“That old stuff even worth anything?” MacCready asked on seeing them automatically gathering scrap along the way.

“You’d be surprised. And it doesn’t hurt to have an extra gun along to keep an eye out while we’re doing these runs,” he said. The fact that MacCready hadn’t once questioned where all that scrap was going said he didn’t care in the least or was too busy looking for raiders to stop to think all that hard about it.

MacCready grunted. “Nice to be on the open road. Goodneighbor was startin’ to wear out its welcome.”

“Oh? Sounds like it’s been a bit rough for you.”

“Rough? That’s putting it mildly. Let’s put it this way. Can’t get much rest when you’re sleeping with one eye open. Still, it was the best place for me to set up shop. Diamond City’s goons would have run me out of town and wandering the Commonwealth alone isn’t the brightest plan when you’re hard up for caps. I needed somewhere to hang out so that people could find me when they required my services. The folks in Goodneighbor tended not to ask too many questions, which suited my needs. So, I made a deal with Hancock and started waiting for the caps to roll in.”

If he’s after a cure for his son, why would caps be so important?

“Caps do seem to be important,” he said mildly.

“You’re god damn right they are … and right now, I need every cap I can get.”

“You in some kind of trouble, then?” he asked, taking a good look around before producing a sheet to flick into place so they could eat.

“No, not really… But…”

Tsuna took a seat and got out some bottled water so he could wash up, bentos, and more bottled water for drinks. “Here, food. Consider it part of your salary.” Once MacCready had taken it he opened his own, took the hashi from their holder, and began to eat.

MacCready just stared for a bit, then took a seat as well. Tsuna had been nice enough to ensure there was a fork as well as hashi in the bento he’d handed to the mercenary, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

“You’re clearly the leader of this bunch.”

“Mm-hm. I am at that.”

“What d’ya even do with all this junk?” MacCready asked, opening his bento to investigate the contents.

“As one example, metals can be melted down and recast into something useful. Paper can be pulped, reset into sheets, and bleached by the sun before being re-used. Wood can be pulped or chipped and made into fibreboard. There’s plenty of ways to recycle old junk.”

“Huh. If you say so.”

They continued on in a mostly westerly direction after they were done eating, continuing to collect scrap along the way. But as night approached Tsuna angled southerly, of a mind to seek shelter with Giglio Nero again.

Mukuro, clearly peeking into his head to see what the deal was, deftly swapped out for a clone and stepped out, presumably to go give Yuni a heads up so that she would have time (again) to prepare a relatively innocuous place for them to bed down in one of the surface buildings.

“What the hell is this place?” MacCready muttered as they got closer to Fairline.

“Some friends live here,” he said vaguely. “They’ll give us a place to sleep safely for the night.”

“Seeing all those turrets… I’d say so.”

Yuni met them on the other side of the decontamination airlock and smiled. “The usual.”

“Thanks, darling. It’ll just be the one night. And since we’re here, we can drop off this scrap with you.”

She nodded. “We’d be glad to have it,” she said, playing along. “I’ll send someone in with some new supplies for you.”

“You’re the best,” he said, then led his group to the building they had used before. It looked quite sad inside, but he knew that was just illusion used for MacCready’s benefit.

It took another day before MacCready took up the earlier thread of conversation. “I don’t usually go around sharing stuff like this, but you’ve been pretty straight with me, so I’m going to be straight with you. It’s those two assh—those two idiots you saw me talking to at the Third Rail, Winlock and Barnes. They’ve been hounding me for months and it’s been driving off clients. No one wants to touch me once they learn I used to run with the Gunners. And I figured if I could get enough caps together, maybe I could buy them out.”

Tsuna nodded, but said, “I’m not sure I’d trust those two, even if you did pay them off.”

Ah, I see, Xeul wrote, which only proved he had not cheated and had a poke inside MacCready’s head.

“Yeah,” MacCready said, looking suddenly worried. “I’m right there with you. Winlock and Barnes have a small army of Gunners with them at all times. They might decide to just keep the caps and put a bullet in my head for good measure. If I set up a place to meet them, I’m sure they’d just roll in with everyone they’ve got. Unless…

“Maybe we could pay them a little visit and put an end to them before they realize what’s going on. And before you get that look on your face, let me just say I wouldn’t even suggest it if I didn’t trust you that far.”

Tsuna non-verbally consulted with his family, who all looked to be in favor, then nodded. “Well, given that we think the Gunners are far too trigger happy and don’t trust them one bit, sure. We’ll help.”

“Wow… I don’t know what to say.” MacCready did look genuinely shocked. “Truth is, I haven’t been able to rely on anyone since I was a kid.”

Liar, he wrote. He had his wife, for a time.

“Everyone I’ve met has either tried to rip me off or plant a knife in my back. But you… You’re different. And I have a funny feeling you actually care about what happens to me. That’s why I asked for your help. If you’re up for it, we’d need to go to the Mass Pike Interchange, to take them down.”

“Right. Let’s mosey over that way, then.” Tsuna checked his map, then struck out.

The Gunners, in general, simply adored setting up their camps atop the ruined highway system. Any time he saw wind turbines on one of them he knew it was another branch or cell of that group, though they didn’t all use them. They also had a tendency to run canvas between the blades, which made them stand out that much more. So, not really a shock that one of the larger groups would squat on an interchange and have the advantage of height over such a wide area.

They took out a few mirelurks and feral dogs as they got closer, and then MacCready spoke up quietly.

“All right, Winlock and Barnes should be here. Let’s take ’em down.”

At ground level there were three Gunners on guard, but they were easy enough to snipe—for Sin, that was.

“Ken, can you hear them up there?” he asked quietly.

Ken nodded. “Pretty clear, yeah.”

“Schatz, I’m seeing holes in that concrete. What do you think?”

“I’m thinking what you’re thinking, tesoro. Give me a few, all right.”

He smiled at his lover and nodded.

Sin, with his exceptional (and flame-enhanced) senses and sight, carefully set up with a sniper rifle (runed so that it did not make a sound when fired) and proceeded to wipe out every last Gunner who was unfortunate enough to go anywhere near one of those holes.

“That must have been an Assaultron,” Ken muttered, and then a few minutes later said, “I’m only hearing maybe a couple more up there? And a turret, I think.”

“Okay. Let’s all hop on that lift I see. And use Stealth Boys, of course. They might think it was an electrical malfunction that sent it up empty, or they might not be close enough to hear or see it.”

“I’m thinking half and half,” Hayato said. “That lift isn’t very big.”

“And I suppose I’ll be in the second half,” he said with a grin.

“Damn right.”

Tsuna laughed quietly and nodded. “Sure, right, figure it out.”

By the time he got up there, riding with Mukuro, Xeul, and Chikusa, there was nothing left alive. And, on spotting a set of power armor, nodded at it so someone would make it conveniently disappear as soon as MacCready could no longer see the thing.

“Well, this should send a message to the Gunners to stay off my back,” MacCready said.

“I take it you’re not concerned about retaliation.”

“The way these lunatics act, you’d think they would … but I know better. For the Gunners, it’s always about the bottom line. They just lost this entire waystation and that cost ’em big. Besides, they have no way of knowing I was involved.”

Except for the part where they’ve been harassing him for months? And may have reported in to a higher level group?

“Anyway, I guess I owe you a favor now. After all, you hired me, but I’m the one that dragged you out here.”

“No, not really. I don’t think you owe us anything. Odds are we’d have stumbled over this bunch at some point, been shot at, and taken them out anyway.”

“Sure… But I like everything to remain nice and even … and you’re one up on me.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes slightly.

“Tell you what. I’m going to give you back the caps you paid me in Goodneighbor. I’ll still stick with you because that was part of the original deal, but now we’re even.”

“All right,” he said, not willing to argue, and, well, that was how it went in the game.

“Here you go,” MacCready said, handing over the caps. “I guess we’re done here. Lead on, boss.”

“Let’s gather up what we can carry,” he said, handing the caps over to Hayato. And wipe it clean later, or send a message to whoever’s closest so they can.

While doing that a bunch of Brotherhood of Steel stragglers buzzed by in a vertibird and started shooting at them, so that clearly had to go, and was promptly shot out of the sky.

They stopped in at Diamond City since it wasn’t all that far away from the interchange, and because they could use Home Plate to sleep in relative safety, but those plans were swiftly set aside when Tsuna noticed that Danny Sullivan, the guy who manned the intercom at the gates, was down with blood coming from his stomach.

“The mayor … he’s part of the Institute… Oh god… Two slugs in the gut … plus the fall from the elevator… I ain’t gonna make it.”

“Like hell,” he said, and jammed a stimpack into the man. “I’ll use as many as it’ll take.”

Even just the one seemed to perk the young man up. “Thank you… I do feel better… If you don’t mind … I’m … I’m just gonna stay here for a bit…”

“The paper was right all along,” one of the Cardboard Cutouts said. “I always thought the mayor was just a blowhard.”

“Yeah, that’s fantastic,” Sin said. “Now how about you fetch Dr Sun instead of standing there gawking. Heul, we need to head up there and see if that secretary is all right.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said, setting a handful of stimpacks next to Sullivan.

They weren’t even all the way up via the makeshift lift (the other half of the team had booked it for the proper lift via the concession stand out near the gate) when Tsuna heard Piper up there.

“I knew it! I knew you were a synth, McDonough!”

“Yes, Piper! Congratulations! You’ve won. I hope you break your foot trying to kick that door down!”

Tsuna rolled his eyes and used the walkway as soon as it dropped into place. Piper was ramming into the door with her shoulder, or indeed, trying to kick it down.

“Damn it! It won’t budge. He’s locked the damn door.”

“Schatz?”

“On it, tesoro,” Sin said, gently pushing Piper aside so he could pick the lock. The rest of the team appeared behind them to observe.

“Cute trick,” MacCready muttered. “You should teach me that sometime.”

“And inside there’s…” Piper said, moving closer again so she could dart around the door frame.

McDonough had a gun trained on the door and, next to him, on her knees, was Genoa or Geneva or whatever her name was.

“That’s far enough!” McDonough said once they stepped through the door.

“Help me! He’s crazy!”

“I am not just going to be discarded and tossed to the wolves. I’m the mayor, god damn it!”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head toward Ken, as he was the fastest, then his Mists for their illusions. “It really doesn’t look good for you to have a hostage. People with nothing to lose start acting strangely, rather like you are right now. Perhaps you’ll see sense and let her go. She’s innocent, she’s done nothing to harm you, and she’s served you faithfully in your role as mayor,” he said, keeping the man’s attention on him.

“Oh? Well I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,” McDonough said. “I’m going to use her as a shield, so I can walk out of this city. Unharmed. With my dignity intact.”

“You’re not getting off the hook that easy, McDonough!” Piper called out. “You have to answer for what you’ve done.”

“I’m either walking out of this city a free man,” McDonough said, completely missing the part where his family had gotten the girl to safety and replaced her with a clone, “or I’m killing as many of you … disgusting, filthy savages as I can!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be that way, huh?” he said. “Yeah, I don’t think so. It’s either a jail cell or a grave for you.”

McDonough snarled and fired on him, but Tsuna just sidestepped slightly. And then McDonough was dead to a bullet through the head, courtesy of Sin.

Piper walked over to gaze down at the body and sighed. “He’s dead. I can’t say McDonough didn’t deserve worse, but…”

Behind her back his family had sorted out the issue of the secretary, while keeping MacCready distracted.

“Without a mayor, the city council will be next in line to pick up the pieces. Let’s hope they do a better job.”

We might need to let Hancock know his “brother” is dead. Or rather, has been, for some time.

“I don’t know when people are going to be ready for another mayoral election. Not going to be soon, that’s for sure. But at least now, Diamond City will finally have the truth.”

“That they will,” he said. “I know you’ll give it to them straight, Piper. And on that note, I’d really like to get some rest.”

“So, you impressed yet? I told you I was a damn good shot,” MacCready said.

“How did you get so good?”

“I’m completely self-taught, you know. Picked up a sniper rifle when I was ten and I never looked back. Always thought it was smarter to hit my targets at long range. I mean, why take chances, right? Besides, I had to come up with every trick in the book to survive the Capital Wasteland.”

“I’m getting the feeling it was just as bad there as it can be here.”

“Well, at least I wasn’t alone. Lived underground in a place called Little Lamplight with a bunch of other kids. Left there when I was around sixteen. We kind of had a policy there: no adults. When you were sixteen, you packed up and left. I know it sounds crazy, but having adults around was something we couldn’t trust.”

“That’s … unusual. How did any of you survive without help?”

MacCready shrugged. “Everyone pulled their own weight. Just like a colony you’d find anywhere, we all had our designated jobs and we watched each other’s backs. Can you believe I was actually the mayor for a while? Me? Crazy, I know. But, looking back on the whole thing, I think we were just lucky.

“Anyway, when I hit sixteen, I ended up wandering the Capital Wasteland for a while. I took the odd job here and there, but things were pretty hot with the Brotherhood of Steel running the show. So I hitched a ride with a caravan and made my way north until I ended up here. Made a pretty decent name for myself before I heard that the Gunners needed some sharpshooters.

“Biggest mistake of my life. They were animals. Killed anything that moved if it got in their way. I went with it for a while, because the caps were good. But, I dunno, I guess it started to catch up with me … so I quit. Which, pretty much brings us to now. So there you have it, my whole life in a nutshell.

“I mean, I know I tend to be something of a pain in the as—I mean, I know I tend to be arrogant and I come off like I want to be alone. Nothing could be further from the truth. Being alone scares the heck out of me. Now that we’ve been traveling together for a while, I’m beginning to realize how much I missed having someone I could depend on.”

I can see why you were reluctant to check into this, Sin wrote.

Tsuna nodded thoughtfully. “The whole thing sounds a bit scary and lonely. I know I’d go mental if I didn’t have my family.”

“I, uh, never got a chance to properly thank you for helping me take out Winlock and Barnes.”

“Didn’t we already go over that?” he asked. “I could have sworn we had.”

“Well, I wanted to say it anyway. You stuck your neck out for me and I don’t forget shi—I mean, things like that.”

Tsuna hummed. “I think this is the part where I ask why you keep preventing yourself from cursing.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d ask me about that sooner or later. It’s not about any of you, it’s about a promise I made. When I left the Capital Wasteland, I didn’t just leave Little Lamplight behind… I left my family behind. Had a beautiful wife named Lucy … and a son we named Duncan. He’s the one I made my promise to … a promise to clean my act up and to be a better person. I guess that sounds pretty stupid coming from a guy who shoots people for a living.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to walk without a damn good reason.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself. My son … he’s sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. One day he’s playing out in the fields behind our farm, the next he took a fever and these blue boils popped up all over his body. Last I saw he was almost too weak to walk. I didn’t dare ask him to come with me. Honestly, I don’t know how much longer he’s going to last.”

“Have you heard anything at all about a sickness like that? Any leads at all? There must be something we can chase down.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. A few months before we met, I bumped into a guy named Sinclair—”

Sin twitched.

“—who claimed his buddy caught some kind of disease. I thought he was wasting my time until he said his partner broke out in blue boils, and I’d never said a word about what my boy was suffering from. They dug up information about a cure at a place called Med-Tek Research. They even managed to grab the building’s lockdown security codes. Unfortunately, Sinclair’s buddy died before they were able to break into the facility. I mean, there’s no way that’s a coincidence, right? Med-Tek has to be the place.”

Tsuna nodded thoughtfully again. “It’s the best lead we have, so I suggest we head that way and find out. At worst I expect ferals inside.”

“There are,” MacCready said. “When I tried on my own I was nearly… It wasn’t something I could do on my own. I have all of the codes we need to get through security, though. Sinclair handed them over since his partner… Yeah.”

“Okay. It’s a plan.”

“I hope Sinclair’s information pays off,” MacCready said after they cleared the exterior of Med-Tek of feral ghouls.

“Let’s go find out.”

“Yeah. Let’s head inside and grab that cure.”

Inside MacCready said, “Let’s find that executive terminal. Sinclair said that’s the only way we can override the facility’s lockdown.”

The lift was inoperable due to the lockdown, so Tsuna headed for the stairs, bypassing the decontamination airlock. The stairs to the first floor were fine, but those to the second floor were ruined, so he headed into an area of cubicles, side offices, and more ferals, a number of which were on the level above, and easily shot at due to the balcony running around that level.

Part of the walkway had crashed down, providing a ramp upward, and they were able to cross back over to the balcony above the reception area and into the other side of the facility, which, on that level, consisted of a secretary’s room guarding an office. After the ferals were shot he approached the desk, which was several desks put together in a U-shape, with a terminal at the center.

“Yeah, check that terminal there,” MacCready said. “Sinclair’s passcode better work, or we’re screwed.”

Sin took the paper with the code on it and handled shutting down the override. “We’re good.”

“Thank god that worked,” MacCready said. “Let’s find our way down to the sub-level. That’s where Med-Tek should be storing the cure.”

They dropped down the levels via holes in the floor and ended up in the bathroom, which opened out to where the decontamination airlock was, along with a terminal, which Sin fiddled with, and which opened the maglock door they could see behind the glass.

“Eh, hold a sec. I see turrets,” he whispered, then dashed forward and off to the left, vaulting over a desk so he could jack his hacking tape in to override the things in their favor, then opened the various maglock doors in the immediate area.

As expected—to him, anyway—ferals began to growl and appear as he reclaimed his holotape.

Up on the next level he rolled his eyes. “An unshielded reactor? Brilliant.” Around the corner, into a lab, and around that corner (as the lab was an L-shape) was a lift. There were also two ferals, each one in a windowed containment room with terminals outside, but he ignored those and went straight for the lift.

It was crowded, but doable.

“Ugh, smells horrible,” MacCready said as they exited the lift. “I think we’re the first ones down here in a long time.”

“It is pretty rank,” he said. Ahead of him was a bank of those round-cornered windows, overlooking a two-level area with rooms along the sides. Specimen rooms? They all had maglock doors, so… He already knew the way left was blocked by rubble, so he headed right.

He also knew there were turrets in there which might fire on them, or should be, along with at least one Protectron, and a terminal that would let him both hack those turrets, activate the robot(s), and open the doors. Meaning, another wave of ferals would shamble out to attack.

Making a dash for that room at the end, he wrote. Terminal there I need to use. Be ready.

Various people nodded, so he booked it down the walkway and jacked the tape in to hack the terminals. Once he had done that he looked up and signaled his family, so they knew he was about to unlock the doors, then activated the robot and opened things up.

A good dozen or so of the fuckers shambled out and were promptly shot, and Tsuna found a ramp down through the collapsed floor of one of the lower cells. Their destination was another lab area, a big square-ish room, with a hallway surrounding it. Alcoves off to the sides held dumpsters, and there was a terminal at the door on the far side. Opposite it was a maglock door, and all the windows had metal shutters covering them.

“I know there must be more in there, so…” He used the terminal to unlock the maglock door, then skittered off to the side as it and the shutters opened. Sure enough there were more ferals, but they were easily downed before they could get up and come to attack.

“Another reactor?” he muttered. “Kami-sama. No wonder there are so many ferals infesting this place.” He took note that the opposite maglock door had also opened, revealing a tiny lounge area and a lift, and headed into the lab. On one of the center counters was an injector which held the cure. He knew it was the one because his quest marker was hovering over it. Lettering on the side read: Med-Tek Prevent.

“Here we are, MacCready,” he said, holding it up.

“We did it. Holy crap, we actually did it! We just gave Duncan a fighting chance to live.”

“Now it just needs to get to him.”

“We need to get this to Daisy in Goodneighbor.”

“The general trader, right? Just next to the weapon shop.”

“Yeah, that’s the place. With her caravan contacts, she’s the only one I trust to get this to Duncan on time.”

“Okay, let’s get moving.”

“Got some good deals,” Daisy said. “You won’t believe what’s in the ‘Is It Food or Not?’ section.”

“Yeah, no, not why we’re here.”

“Ah, I see. MacCready! I haven’t seen you in a while. You haven’t been avoiding me have ya?”

“Now, how could I stay away from someone as cute as you, Daisy?” MacCready said with a slight grin.

“You’re a lousy liar, but I’ll just play stupid and pretend I don’t know that,” she replied. “So, what do you need?”

“I got it, Daisy. I found the cure to Duncan’s disease.”

“Oh my god! That’s wonderful news. How’d you do it? Last time you tried, the ferals almost chewed you to bits.”

MacCready nodded his way and said, “I didn’t do it alone. My friends here got me through Med-Tek. Now all I need to do is to get the cure into Duncan’s hands. Can you help?”

“Of course, MacCready! You’ve already saved my behind more than once, it’s the least I can do.” Daisy looked at Tsuna and said, “It’s okay, you can trust me. I swear I’ll get the cure to Duncan.”

He nodded. “MacCready trusts you with this, so who am I to object?”

“I appreciate that. He’s actually not so bad, once you get to know him. I’ll have that sample on the first caravan leaving the Commonwealth. The driver owes me a few favors, and he’s reliable. I’ll be at your homestead in no time, MacCready.”

“I guess this is good-bye, then,” he said, eyeing MacCready. “I imagine you’ll be going along to help protect it and the caravan. Well, and to see your boy again, of course. He must miss you something fierce.”

MacCready’s brain clearly stuttered judging by the look on his face, as if the very idea had never occurred to him. Tsuna had decided that MacCready hadn’t gone with it in the game because the man was terrified that his son was already dead, and just couldn’t handle seeing it, but Tsuna wasn’t about to let the man off the hook on his responsibility to a child he had brought into the world.

“I… Uh, yeah, of course,” MacCready stuttered. “I’ll … never be able to repay this.”

Tsuna shook his head. “Don’t be absurd. Any decent person would have helped. You go, and the next thing you know, that boy of yours will be running around again, playing…”

He extricated himself from the situation quickly after that, leaving with a backward wave, and the second they were in a position to, they shifted to storage to clean up and eat.

“I assume MacCready stuck around in the game,” Chikusa said, “because he was a companion. Probably gave a perk.”

“Yep. But I don’t need the perk. The boy, however, needs his father. So yeah, I pushed. We can check to see if Cait is still kicking.”

She wasn’t.

The drugs had finally taken their toll and she had, as they learned, kicked it during one of the cage fights at the Combat Zone. Lonegan was at something of a loss given that his audience (and protection, really) was dead, his “little bird” was dead, and he could no longer make caps selling information to the Institute.

Not that Tsuna gave a damn. True, the man was “nice” enough to kick Cait out in the game, presumably with the idea of her cleaning herself up (conjecture only, based on Cait’s thoughts), but that was neither here nor there. Lonegan would have to figure things out on his own.

Tsuna shrugged and headed back out. “A shame,” he said, “but we can’t win all of them.”


	17. λ34: 17: Commonwealth, Far Harbor

## λ34  
17: Commonwealth, Far Harbor  
“Crazier than a box of radroaches, but that hasn’t stopped you before.”

They dropped by Valentine Detective Agency for a visit and, as expected, Ellie looked up from her seat at the desk to say, “I’m glad you’re here. Was just about to send you a message. We got a new case in. Ready to put on the detective hat?”

“Sure. Who’s the client?” he asked, taking in that Valentine had appeared from the “private” area of the agency.

“A fisherman whose family lives on the edge of the Commonwealth. Kenji Nakano. Mr Nakano didn’t leave many details. Said he’d go over everything when you meet him. But if you want my guess? Missing person case. Guy had a worried look a mile long.”

Tsuna nodded and looked at Valentine, who also nodded. “We’ll check it out, then.”

“The Nakano Residence is up in the northeast, near the coast. A small fishing house. He said that he and his wife will be waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Ellie. Take care.”

“You, too.”

Outside of Diamond City, as they headed for a place safe to shift from, he said, “So how did people react after the mayor exposed himself?”

Valentine shot him a look. “Interesting phrasing there. They were all somewhat divided. I knew its and I can’t believe its and everything in between.”

“Well, if the city council should go mental and try to drive you out, say something, yeah? We’ll figure something out.” He checked his map after they ducked into Hardware Town, and saw that Mercer Safehouse was the closest known point to shift to. “Yeah, I don’t want them seeing us, so we’ll open a window, push that out far enough, then shift in.”

Daemon nodded and immediately opened a window onto Mercer, then shot it down the hill, down the road northward, and around the corner.

Tsuna gave him a fond smile, then accepted Valentine’s arm long enough to shift the two of them. Once they were again assembled it was simply a matter of following the quest marker. Of course, that was pointing straight at a wall of rock.

“If it’s a fishing house,” Hayato said, “we might be better off leaving the road, skirting this cliff thing, and following the coastline.”

“Yeah, I agree. This road probably leads right on out of the Commonwealth.”

It was a bit of a walk, but they were all in excellent shape. The coastline path took them by a boathouse. Up ahead was a two storey home, with weathered walls and a red roof. A boat was evident, off the dock, and a few smaller outbuildings were scattered around, plus another boathouse.

When they got close enough they could hear a man inside.

“Damn it. Come in! I know you’re listening on the other end! Where is she? Where’s my daughter!?”

“Kenji, please! You’ve been at this for hours. Stop! You need sleep,” a woman, presumably his wife, said.

“She’s out there, Rei. Someone has her. They could be raiders or Gunners or god knows what else!”

Tsuna nodded, mostly to himself, and headed up the steps onto the stone wrap-around deck. There was a red door to the left of a bay window, so he gave it a sharp knock before opening it. Directly in front of him was a washer and dryer set and some stairs leading up, and to his right was the living room. A large gap in the wall revealed a kitchen. At the far end was another red door, sandwiched between a bookcase and a television set.

The Nakanos were to the right, at a dining table, and Kenji was hunched over a ham radio.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Valentine said. “We let ourselves in.”

“Nick! Thank god! You need to get to work right away! She could be hurt. She could be—”

“Whoa. Slow down. Uh … Kenji, was it? Why don’t you go over the details with me and my partner here?”

“You brought a partner? Good. The more eyes the better.”

And, as much as he wanted to press the issue of Mr Nakano being seemingly familiar with Valentine, yet Valentine having presumably had those same memories pushed out in favor of newer material, he instead said, “Please tell us what happened, Nakano-san.”

Nakano blinked at him, then shook his head. “It’s all thanks to this damn radio.”

“Our daughter Kasumi likes to fix things. The radio was her latest project,” Mrs Nakano said.

“Until she made contact with some kidnapper who lured her away from us.”

“Or maybe she left on her own. She’s not a child anymore.”

Tsuna politely refrained from rolling his eyes or zoning out. They were two very worried parents, and that would be unforgivably rude of him.

“Our daughter is nineteen,” Mrs Nakano said. “She knows how to survive, and she’s capable. I … think maybe she left because she wanted her own life.”

And living this far out in the boonies…

“No, she would’ve told us where she was going,” the man objected. “She would’ve said … something! I know my daughter is in danger. I can feel it. Find her. Please.”

He nodded. “Do you have _any_ idea where she could’ve gone?”

“We know she took one of the boats, but that’s all. She could be anywhere.”

“We _will_ find her.”

“Thank you. Her room is upstairs if that helps, and if you have any questions about her, just ask.”

“Don’t worry, Kenji,” Valentine said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Just sit tight.”

Tsuna began by wandering the ground floor looking for the holotapes he expected to be there. Kasumi (in the game, anyway) had a habit, due to her grandfather, of recording information about her projects. Most of them were simple enough, and nothing much could be gleaned from them aside from the knowledge that the girl was very good at tinkering with things. She might have made for a good mechanical engineer under different circumstances.

It was very clear that the girl was chafing at being tucked away in such a remote location, with no one to talk to about her projects, and with her father so unwilling to take her with him when he made trips into the “city” for supplies. If nothing else, hearing her voice meant they could match that to a girl they would find with a name of Kasumi.

Before they headed upstairs he stopped to speak with Mrs Nakano. “Nakano-san, I would like to know more about your daughter. It might shine a light on where she’s gone.”

“My daughter is strong. Focused, careful. That’s how I know she’s still alive. But why would she leave without telling us? Maybe we… No, never mind. I don’t want to waste your time…”

Tsuna shook his head. “Every detail could be important. Please don’t hold back.”

“…It’s just that … we’ve been fighting a lot more. All of us. Ever since Kasumi’s grandfather passed away. He was the only one what could really … talk to her. Kenji and I don’t understand machines, but those two? They could work together for hours. She started staying in her grandfather’s boathouse late into the night. I thought she was just trying to cope with the loss, but now I wonder what she was up to.”

“All right.” It also explained for the uninitiated the grave he had noticed on the way in.

There was a “journal” in her room, which was odd as it was paper rather than a holotape, but it merely mentioned the radio she’d been working on. That and the key to a safe.

“So Kasumi was spending time in her grandfather’s old boathouse?” Valentine said. “Well, sounds like we know where we’re headed next. There’s another holotape over here, by the way, under her bed.”

He looked over with a smile and went to retrieve it. That one, unlike the others, which had titles like “Television” and “Lamp” and “Holotape Player”, was labeled “Dreams”.

> “Project log. Dreams. Recording what I can remember when I wake up. I keep having the same one. I’m in a white room. People are talking about me like I’m not there, or maybe they just don’t care. And then there’s this … I don’t know … jolt. Like a spark of electricity to the back of my head. And then everyone turns to look at me. God… I hope I don’t have it again tonight…”

“Interesting,” he muttered.

Valentine looked perturbed, but pointed out another holotape, that one labeled “Radio”, but it was just her talking about her choice of handle. The only other room up there was a bathroom, and there was nothing unexpected there.

“Let’s keep looking,” Valentine said. “Need to figure out what Kasumi’s story was. Why she left.”

“Yeah, let’s head to the boathouse. Got a good feeling about it.”

The boathouse was a little down the coast, and a ways off, but not too far. Why they had multiple docks… Maybe at one point there were more houses and more people and more boats to justify so many of them.

That boathouse was much larger and could have functioned as a second house. In fact, he wasn’t sure why they called it a boathouse when it was more like a barn or warehouse, though there was a wooden boat in there, up on a makeshift rack of sorts, and more of a proper fishing boat visible outside on the water.

There was a pristine picture of a lighthouse on one of the desks, which looked very out of place next to a burnt out old terminal, so he picked it up and flipped it over. Just barely visible, tucked under the frame, was a key.

“A hidden key, huh? Good work. Just gotta find whatever it—ah, hang on. There’s a safe over here the other side of these consoles.”

Basically where he expected it to be. On top was a note from the grandfather, a hint as to where the key had been hidden. Inside the safe was Kasumi’s final holotape.

> “Project log. Um … myself. I never really thought about who or … what I am, but… God, where do I start? The radio. I was right about the range. I managed to get a signal. A strong signal from up north. There’s a group of people up there. They say they’re all synths … synthetic people. Made by the Institute.
> 
> “They’re trying to build a place for their kind. Where they can be themselves and be accepted for what they are alongside human beings. It sounds wonderful, but … then they started asking about me, and … some questions came up. Questions … I don’t have answers to.
> 
> “I mean, I’ve always felt … off … like I’m not really supposed to be here, but then there are things in my childhood I can’t remember, and I’ve been having these strange dreams… I… I’m going to go. To meet these synths. I … I have to know the truth about myself. They’ve told me to sail up north to a town called Far Harbor. I can make my way to them from there.”

“So the daughter takes off by boat, but more importantly, there’s a colony of synths up near this Far Harbor,” Valentine said quietly. “We need a way to get there. Let’s go talk to Kenji. He knows the waters better than us.”

“Yeah. Let’s. I am very curious, though, if her dreams started before or after she made contact.”

Valentine eyed him for a moment, then nodded. “Young girl, already confused, and all those questions could have prompted them. Well, let’s go tell Kenji about where his daughter ran off to.”

“Nakano-san,” he said once they returned to the house.

“Have you finished your investigation?” the man said before he could say more. “Did you find anything?”

He found it vaguely amusing that his wife looked more Japanese than he did, and equally amusing that anyone looked Japanese at all after two centuries of post-apocalyptic living and a much smaller genetic base. “Your daughter made contact with a group of synths. She seems to think she might be one of them.”

“What? That’s … that’s crazy!”

“She’s not a synth!” Mrs Nakano said. “She’s our daughter. We raised her. I … I gave birth to her. She’s flesh and blood, not a synthetic.”

Tsuna found it interesting that she stumbled over the giving birth part, and only said that _after_ the raised part. “It doesn’t matter whether your daughter is a synth or not, Nakano-san. She’s still a person who needs help.”

Mrs Nakano didn’t appreciate that given the very firm, “My daughter _isn’t_ a synth,” but Valentine did if the warm look shot his way meant anything.

“This is what I was afraid of,” Mr Nakano said. “Someone twisting my daughter’s mind. Did you find _where_ she went, detective?”

“Ah, yes. A place called Far Harbor.”

“She went that far up north? God, that explains why she took the boat… You have to go after her, please! Take my other ship on the dock outside. My father’s design. It has a guidance system, and it’s built for distance.”

He nodded. “What can we expect out there? Do you know?”

“I only made the trip to Far Harbor once … when I was a boy. All I remember is that my father did not want to stay long. Something about the air being bad.”

“Interesting. All right, we’ll head out, then, and we thank you for the use of the boat.”

“Thank _you_. I know you haven’t asked for payment, and we can’t offer much, but here. Please take it, I insist. For expenses, if nothing else.”

As Nakano handed over some caps Valentine said, “I know it’ll be hard waiting for word, but try to carry on like normal. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Tsuna noticed that aside from the quest update to travel to far harbor he got one to tell the railroad about the synth refuge. ‘Yeah, maybe I’ll drop off a note. Later. I really don’t want to get dragged back into that.’

The boat in question had a bank of consoles in the cabin-cockpit and some semi-complicated-looking machinery hooked up. Tsuna activated the controls and was presented with a choice of where to go, and naturally picked far harbor. The machinery to the right started up, so he backed out and took a seat.

“Now we wait,” Sin said.

“Well, at least once we get to Far Harbor we can move freely back and forth if necessary,” Ken said.

“Right now,” he said, “my intuition says the girl is safe, unharmed, and not in any particular danger. So once we get there, we can take the time to investigate the town and its people. I have a … a gut feeling that lending them some assistance will be valuable down the road.”

“And if her situation changes, you’ll let us know and we change direction,” Chikusa said.

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

The first thing he noticed as they drew closer to the island was a shipwreck in the water, and a Red Rocket on the island itself. It was very dark, understandably so given the lack of light pollution, so the still glowing letters of the station stood out. Beyond that was a pool of light, which shortly resolved to a backlit billboard for Vim.

The light from lanterns popped up next, dimly illuminating a coastal settlement, and the eerie blue light from what he knew to be fog condensers. Amusingly, to him at least, there were patriotic half-circle banners on the side of the bridge he could see.

The closer they got to the main settlement the more lanterns could be seen lighting the area, and it was much easier to see the swirl of cold blue light around the condensers—an odd light show, to be sure. Waiting on the dock were two people, a man and a woman.

“Wait. That’s not one of mine,” the man said.

Tsuna always assumed that the townsfolk listened for the sound of boats—fishermen—so they could be met and assisted if necessary with any catches.

The man immediately brought up his gun to a ready position.

“Jesus,” the woman said. “Ease up, Allen. We got visitors.”

He was informed by the system that far from home had completed—

“Mainlanders ain’t nothin’ but trouble,” Allen said, still aiming his gun their way.

“Put the damned gun down,” she ordered.

—and that walk in the park had begun and he should talk to the welcome party.

So he hopped off the boat and approached the woman, whom he knew to be Captain Avery. “Ma’am,” he greeted.

“Are you lost? This is Far Harbor. We … we don’t get many visitors around here.”

“We don’t need no freeloaders or more ‘help’, mainlander,” Allen added, though at least his gun was pointed at the dock instead of them by that point. “So you can get back in your boat and leave.”

“Allen, this isn’t your dock. It belongs to the whole town, and that means strangers are welcome,” Avery said to her companion, then turned to them. “Uh, sorry. You’ve caught us during a … a difficult time. But Allen’s got a point… Not all visitors have good intentions. So, uh, what’s your business here?”

Tsuna smiled serenely and said, “A young woman from the Commonwealth named Kasumi may have passed through here. Her family hired us to find her.”

“Some sort of detective, huh? Well, she came through here, all right.”

“At least we know she made it this far,” Valentine said quietly.

He did wonder what had happened to the boat she had taken, though.

“Damn it,” Allen said. “Mariner’s incoming.” Though how he knew when the man had yet to take his eyes off Tsuna’s party…

“Something’s coming through the Fog!” a woman, presumably Mariner, yelled.

“You,” Avery said. “Help us defend the town, and I’ll answer any questions you have. Take a post at the top of the wall near the main gate. The ‘Hull’ never lets us down. Now follow me!”

“Man the Hull!” Mariner yelled. “Something’s out there!”

The walkway overlooking the interior part of the ruined town had quite a number of fog condensers casting their cold blue light, but they also made it difficult to see properly due to how they illuminated the Fog.

“You sure you saw something?” a cardboard cutout asked.

“This ain’t a drill.”

“What the hell?” Allen said.

“Eyes peeled, everyone,” Mariner said.

Tsuna shook his head and switched to thermal vision, and only then could he spot a number of human forms headed their way. The way they moved told him they were not ferals.

“The gate! Open the gate! I’ve got wounded here!” one of the incoming men hollered.

“Mariner?”

“There’s no time,” she said. “Look to the Fog. They’re coming.”

Tsuna shook his head again and jumped down, if only so he had a better line of sight in both directions. His family followed him, of course, and split, half to one side, half with him at the other.

“God. Defend yourselves!”

VATS told him the shapes coming into view were gulpers, but he already knew that. The fuckers spit globs of something that vaguely resembled spherical, acidic fire. Tsuna was helpfully informed by the system, as he was looting the corpses, that the attack was over and that he should talk to captain avery.

“Captain,” he said a minute later, having tracked her down again.

“And now you see what we’re up against. The Fog and the creatures it spits out have taken the whole island from my people. And for your help when we needed it, you deserve this.” Avery handed over a bunch of caps, which he immediately handed off to Hayato.

“What _is_ the Fog?”

“Where to begin? The Fog’s radioactive, right? But there are pockets of it, the Deep Fog, that are hard fallout. And as deadly as that is, that’s only part of the problem. Things live in the Fog. Thrive. You think what attacked the Harbor’s bad? Oh, there’s far worse things farther inland.”

‘Right, not an answer, but I didn’t really expect one,’ he thought. “Clearly, if you manage to survive despite all that, you must be tough,” he said diplomatically.

Avery chuckled. “Ornery, more like. I—”

“I’m done cowering behind your damned Hull, Avery,” Allen interrupted. “Time you let me deal with the real problem. With the right people and my guns I can end those Children of Atom cultists for good.”

“The Fog’s been here forever,” Avery rebutted. “The Children didn’t make it.”

Allen shook his head in denial. “Before the rad eaters came, the Fog was under control. They come and it all goes wrong. It’s time we do something!”

“No need to burden these strangers will all this … nonsense.”

“…What is the deal with the Children of Atom?”

“They’re religious folk. Worship the power of Atom. Which is … radiation, I guess? If you want details you’d have to find and ask them. We used to have a peace with ’em, until a certain hothead menace named Allen Lee—”

“Now that’s enough,” Allen interrupted again. “That preacher came into the Harbor saying that it was Atom’s will that we lost our land. That it was Atom’s god damned will that we lost so many friends and family. And that the Atom would wipe this whole place clean of us.”

Quite a threat, really. Behind Allen was a bar to the left called the last plank. To the right was a billboard which very clearly stated that they were in Bar Harbor, Maine, which begged the question of why these people insisted on calling the place Far Harbor, and how Mount Desert Island had become simply the Island. Then again, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts had become simply the Commonwealth, and they only ever saw a small part of it, not even the entirety of Greater Boston.

“If it were up to me, you’d hang for what you did to that preacher, Allen,” Avery said coldly.

Tsuna’s serene smile was back after a delicate cough. “You were saying about Kasumi…?”

Avery nodded. “Sorry for all … that. Kasumi, she headed inland to the synth refuge, Acadia. Getting there will be dangerous. You’ll need a guide: Old Longfellow. No one knows the Fog like him. But, word of warning, he’s a bit of an acquired taste.”

“Thank you for the information.”

Avery grunted, though Tsuna could not for the life of him figure why, and said, “Best place to look for Longfellow’s at the bar. The Last Plank. And… Please … lend a hand around town, if you’re able. Even if it’s slapped away, people like the Mariner and Cassie and others need help. And let me say something you might not hear again: thank you.” Avery nearly bolted after saying those two words.

“Don’t let the island catch you off guard,” Allen called out from his shopfront. “Buy my guns!”

“So, this the part where we do more helping others to help themselves?” Valentine said, eyeing him.

Tsuna smiled. “Yep. A little help and a little hope goes a long way.”

The Mariner complained that the Hull had taken a battering (which Tsuna could not understand, as none of the hostiles had gotten anywhere near it) and rather diffidently asked if they would be willing to acquire some specialized tools from Eagle’s Cove Tannery so she could effect some repairs.

Tsuna agreed and trundled off in search of the next side quest.

“Guns, ammo, souvenirs,” Allen called. “Get ’em while they’re in stock.”

“Fresh shipment in,” cried a man. “All your medical and food needs!”

And that reminded Tsuna of a sidequest he frequently forgot about, so he headed in to the medical area. There was a man there, laid out on a dingy bed.

“The Hull needs mending,” he heard the Mariner say. “You know, it just don’t build itself. I need proper wood, steel, nails. The like.”

“Everywhere… It’s coming… Oh…” was all the injured man had to say.

“Nobody asked you to cobble together that stupid wall,” Allen could be heard saying. “You want yourself commodities, you know how to get ’em. Caps.”

“That ‘stupid wall’ is the only thing that kept you stowaways alive. That and the mainlanders.”

“The mainlanders? Ha. What kept us safe was Harbormen and the firepower I sold them.”

He’s clearly delusional, Daemon commented. And what does she mean by stowaways?

“Want supplies?” Allen continued. “Tell you what… Apply that big ol’ brain of yours to dealing with the real threat: those Children of Atom whack-jobs.”

The Harbor was the Mariner’s originally, but she took in island refugees.

“Meaning no disrespect, doc,” a cardboard cutout said to the man garbed in the usual dingy labcoat, “but if he ain’t getting better… Andre promised me his gun. I got a writ for it here. All official.”

Tsuna glanced back to see the man’s expression twist in disgusted disbelief.

“You want his … gun? His body’s not cold yet, so what’s his stays his until then.”

“Mr Lee’s lined me up a deal. More than enough caps to get off this cursed island. I need that gun,” she said.

Cold-hearted bitch, Hayato wrote.

“A miserable rascal like you doesn’t deserve to be on this island. You should be praying for your ‘friend’ instead of reading up on his will. Now, get the hell out of my clinic.” To Tsuna he said, “You another vulture circling over Andre’s body? He ain’t dead. Wait… No, it’s a mainlander. Welcome to my little clinic. If you need doctoring speak up. I wish I had time for some proper conversation, but my work’s never done.”

“Andre, the man on the bed?” he asked, glancing over at it.

“Yeah. He spent too long in the Fog. You may think you know your mainland radiation poisoning, but we got our own special brand here.”

“We do know a few things about medicine. Will you allow us to try to help him?”

“You say—what? You? Help? Well, poor Andre’s got it bad. Good as dead… I suppose there’s no harm letting you have a poke. But I’ll be watching you.”

Tsuna nodded and approached the patient again, with Sin at his side. “What do you think, schatz?”

“Well, I have learned quite a bit since we’ve been around, so… Let me see…”

“Well I’ll be,” the doctor said a few minutes later. “I think you may have done it. I’ll keep looking after Andre, but I think thanks to you, he’s got a fighting chance.”

“Glad we could help,” Sin said.

Tsuna gave the man a smile and trundled off again in search of the next sidequest, which was one Cassie Dalton, an elderly woman who came across as somewhat psychotic.

“You’re that mainlander who just got here,” Dalton said in a slow, measured pace. “Better watch yourself, ’cause this island sees and hears everything you do. I should know. I watched the island tear down the greatest family that ever set foot in Far Harbor. It’s a tale of greed, blood, and vengeance.”

“Oh?” he said with a quirk of his brow.

“My family, the Daltons, was the pride of Far Harbor for generations, even back before the war. It was lumber and fishin’ that made the Daltons rich, but … they got greedy. Took too much from the island. The island’s been getting revenge ever since, killing us off one by one. I’m the last Dalton still standing. Ah … but now our story takes an unexpected turn. A mysterious stranger comes to Far Harbor. Someone strong, someone capable. With the stranger’s help, the last living Dalton finally has a chance to avenge her bloodline once and for all!”

“Uh huh. And what is this mysterious stranger going to help you with, then? I’m sure it’ll be interesting.”

Dalton chuckled; it was a gravely sound. “Ah… The stranger is quick-witted, which is good, as the stranger will need their wits about them, because their part of the story is filled with danger. Now, on to the first chapter in our tale of vengeance! That would be the sad story of freckle-faced Petey.”

Is this chick for real? Hayato asked.

Sort of, but not really, either. I can spoil it, or you can find out along the way.

Eh, I’ll wait.

“Petey was my cousin. He was a good lad, never caused trouble. He thought all those freckles brought him luck, but … well, not so much. He was out foraging at the National Park campground when the island sicced some feral ghouls on him. Island’s a sneaky bastard when it wants to be. Anyway, he made it back to town, but died from his injuries that night. ’Course those ferals are still out there, waiting to kill the next poor fool who comes along. Damn shame, that.”

He nodded. “It is. Mayhap the mysterious stranger will hear of this and wipe those ferals out.”

“Well I hope so. It’s long past time those shamblers paid for what they did to Petey.”

Tsuna smiled serenely and trundled off again. Just to the left of the Last Plank was a massive boiler tank with a large hatch on the front, nearly the height of the tank, with a large inset of glass, and a wood fire down below. Inside the tank was a mirelurk, boiling away.

As décor it was questionable. As food, well, it was still questionable.

“Right, let’s see about a few tasks, then,” he said and headed off beyond the Hull.

“These people seem beyond superstitious,” Ken said.

They believe the Fog makes you crazy if you’re in it too long, he wrote, if only because he could not explain to Valentine how he knew. And there are plenty of crazies on this island. But not, in the end, all _that_ much different from your average cannibalistic raider.

He shrugged. “What little I know of Maine says that its people are a bit weird when it comes to outsiders. Reserved, suspicious, stuff like that. Takes a lot to be considered not so much an outsider. And people did all suffer a sharp setback technologically, so I suppose it’s no surprise that superstition had a surge.”

Along the way they took out more ferals, a new group called Trappers (raiders of a local sort), and ended up at the National Park Campground, which looked nothing like a campground. The ferals infesting the place were cleared, which updated his quest to return to cassie dalton. Instead, they headed off toward the tannery.

Scattered around the island were tiny camping spots, with pitched tents and campfires, not that Tsuna would ever dare to use one to catch a nap, not with so many nasties roaming the island. Given that Mount Desert Island hosted Acadia National Park, it only made sense there were so many campsites dotted along the numerous hiking trails. The Island, with its blue mist and fog, countless trees, and varied landscape, was incredibly beautiful. …If one didn’t count the super mutants, gulpers, fog crawlers, and various other hostiles roaming around.

“Jesus fuck!” Ken practically shouted when a bus got up and shambled toward them. “The hell?”

“Ah, that looks like a massive hermit crab using a bus as a shell?” Chikusa said calmly.

It went down after a minute of concentrated fire.

Eagle’s Cove Tannery had its own infestation of ferals, which they cleared before entering the building, as well as some Trappers lurking around. The building itself was also infested, and quite dim, so Tsuna put his heat vision goggles back on. Down on the lower level was the set of tools the Mariner desired, which he grabbed.

Back outside, though, a man had arrived. “Hold up!” he said. “I been casing those ghouls for weeks—waiting for an opening. And you dive in and choppy-chop bang-bang and the whole lot of them … dead. You even know what you got right there? A premium set of Pelmer’s Power Tools. Mariner sent you, didn’t she? God damned Mitch and his big mouth. No matter what she’s offering, it’s nothin’. Serious builders would give an arm for them tools.”

Then how would they use them?

“I’ll pay you two thousand caps right here, right now. Deal?”

Tsuna shook his head. “Sorry, no.”

“I ain’t hanging around forever,” the man said. “Walk away from this, and you’ll regret it.”

The man wasn’t hostile, even with such a threatening-sounding statement, so Samsara took off so they could shift back to near Far Harbor.

“You been to the tannery?” Mariner asked when they approached. “You find my tools yet?”

Tsuna heaved the duffel bag onto the table she was sitting at as an answer.

“A fair bit of luck running into you. Here’s your reward, well earned,” Mariner said, handing over far fewer caps than that man had offered. “And now to work on the Hull!”

They exited her little workshop and headed toward Cassie Dalton, who was seated at her little table next to the water, her view a wide expanse of ocean.

“You hear of the Red Death?” a harborman said in passing. “A more vicious creature there never was. Avoid the coast if you value your life.”

He nodded to show that he had heard and continued on. “We got curious, see,” he told Dalton, “and drifted over to that campground you spoke of. Seems a mysterious stranger got wind and wiped all those ferals out. Your cousin has been avenged, it seems.”

“The hero of our saga has been triumphant!” Dalton crowed. “I bet the island didn’t see that comin’! It’s only right you get paid for checking,” she said as she handed over a pouch. “Here’s two hundred caps for you.”

“I’m sure there are more people in your family who need to be avenged.”

“Well… I’m glad you mentioned that,” Dalton said. “I’ve been thinkin’ about what’s next, and then it came to me. We all love our grandparents, don’t we?”

Can’t say as I’ve ever met one of mine, he commented.

“Kind, gentle, doting. Love to spoil ya. You’d never want somethin’ awful to happen to them. Nobody would. That’s why it broke my heart when I lost Grandpa George. He had a farm, little ways north of here. Lived a peaceful life, workin’ the land and not causin’ anyone trouble. The island sent somethin’ after him … a huge monster, mean as spit an’ with claws to snap steel beams. A fog crawler! Grandpa bravely stood his ground, a shotgun in his hands, holding off that terror while the farmhands fled back here. If the mysterious stranger can take out that shell-backed devil, it’ll send a message loud and clear that says the Daltons never forget when they’ve been wronged!”

“Mayhap the mysterious stranger will mosey on out that way and make that fog crawler pay,” he said. “For Grandpa George!”

“I sure hope so,” Dalton said, then let her gaze drift back to the ocean and its carcasses of ships.

Tsuna led them back to the infirmary to check on Andre.

“The doctor has said in time, I will fully recover. He says this is your doing? But … I do not know you.”

“It isn’t necessary to know someone to give them a helping hand.”

Andre let out a dry chuckle. “You’re obviously not from here.” His accent was not at all like the usual Downeaster, so perhaps he came from French Canadian stock? “Gratitude… It’s a hard thing out here. So, yeah. This island…” Andre shook his head mournfully. “It has taken my husband. It has taken everything. This island is a sickness. Don’t you see, it’s evil? As soon as I am well, I am going to grab as many guns as I can carry. And I will slaughter everything in my path… Until the island is clean or I am no more.”

Go, Gryffindor…?

Tsuna frowned. “You’re in pain. I’ve … been there. But your plan, it’s just not reasonable. Consider, instead, finding a purpose, something constructive, that would make your late husband proud of you. Something in his honor, not just another death.”

Andre heaved a heavy sigh. “You wouldn’t know… Once, Far Harbor was … well, not thriving… But alive. I… I’ll think on what you’ve said.”

Tsuna nodded, smiled a bit ruefully, then trundled off again. They only got a short distance outside of town when his quests updated again, with (optional) help the mariner again, so they did an about-face and headed back, with Tsuna remarking that he had meant to check the trader for shipments to keep Valentine from wondering about the abrupt change in plans.

After purchasing a few things he drifted on over to see the Mariner again. As her place was right next to the gate, it was convenient.

“Those tools you found are a joy to work with,” Mariner commented, her mouth twitching into what might have been a faint smile. “It gave me this idea… A cargo freighter foundered ages ago. To the south. With a bit of arc welding and some elbow grease the Hull could be reinforced to be sturdy. Fierce. Best to do it soon… Before… Well, soon.”

“All right,” he said.

“The island should never be underestimated. The ship’s the MS Azalea. Expect Trappers, mean ones. Once you mop the decks with them, I’ll send my crew over. Best of luck!”

“Guns, guns, and more guns!” Allen could be heard in the background.

They headed out the gates again, that time to the south.

“I wonder why soon,” Hayato said as they passed out of hearing range of the town.

“She might be sick with something,” he said. “Maybe she doesn’t expect to live much longer?”

“And we don’t know her well enough to pry,” Chikusa said as they passed by Beaver Creek Lanes.

“I suddenly have the urge to go bowling,” Ken said, “but I’ll settle for a strike against ferals.”

“You lot have such odd senses of humor,” Valentine said with a shake of his head. “Gettin’ any feelings about the girl, Kasumi?”

Tsuna leaned on his intuition just in case, then shook his head. “The same. She’s safe, unharmed, and not in any immediate danger. We’re still good.”

The MS Azalea, when they got there, was teeming with Trappers, but they were no particular trouble to take out, so they moved on to dealing with Dalton Farm, which was on the northern coast. They passed the Aldersea Day Spa along the way, pausing long enough to remove the resident super mutant infestation.

The farm contained the usual cluster of ruined buildings, along with a massive fog crawler to be killed. His quest updated to say return to cassie dalton, but he disdained that to say, “We might as well clean this place up and get it ready for habitation. Those farm hands might want to come back, so…”

The end result was a series of raised platforms (mostly so in the event of a storm strong enough to lash the coast with waves or cause flooding) supporting cabins with the usual two beds and bath, shopfronts, a kitchen/bar, a small manufactory, logistics, and so forth.

After the Mariner was updated he trundled over toward Dalton, but was hailed on the way by the doctor. “You are a curious specimen,” the man said. “Despite our ‘friendly’ town doing its best to chase you out, you keep helping us ingrates all the same. I gotta ask: Why do you keep at it?”

“Because sometimes all it takes is a hand up. Once people can see hope, they do just fine on their own, and no man is an island unto himself.”

“Huh?” The doctor chuckled almost disbelievingly. “You running for office? If that’s the truth, we don’t deserve you. Most folk here are set in their ways, yes? Makes no difference how hard you try to get in good with them. Heck, it took my family three generations before the Daltons would sell us a heel of bread. But there’s a way—a downright insane way, mind—that you can turn even the most stubborn fool around. Most of the folk on this rock believe they’ve been given the God-given right to walk here. Way I figure it, if you got the moxie to survive—you earned your place.”

“Oh? Let’s hear it.”

The doctor nodded. “Do it right, and all mainlanders might get treated better. In olden times leaders were chosen by something called the ‘Captain’s Dance’. Legends say the toughest, meanest, and outright craziest hopefuls would … chum the waters and lure out the worst the island could throw at them. Once the would-be captain killed the mirelurk queen, or fog crawler, or what have you—they’d invite the whole island to feast off the bounty. You do this, well, you won’t be made captain—but you’ll earn respect. Everyone’s respect.”

“Respecting the local culture, as it were,” he said. “How would I go about this, then?”

“There’s an old mirelurk feasting grounds by Emmet’s Causeway. A treacherous stretch along the coast. Go there and throw any kind of meat you got into the water. All that blood and viscera will be sure to attract their attention. And then wait. I’ll make sure there’s a witness or two. Prove to the rest of these clods you belong.”

started: rite of passage flashed by as the doctor wandered off again, and drop meat in the water.

“Food! Stimpacks! Fully stocked!”

Dalton was in her usual spot, seemingly mesmerized by a lit lantern on the table.

“We were curious,” he said, “and drifted on over to the farm you spoke of. Seems the mysterious stranger took care of that fog crawler, then stuck around to revamp things a bit, in case those farmhands wanted to return and make a go of things.”

“Wonderful! That’s another chapter successfully concluded. The mysterious stranger truly is the heroic avenger I hoped for. With that fog crawler gone, yes, the farmhands can return. Truly a wonder. You might even consider that you now own a piece of the island,” Dalton said, which, if the doctor was to be believed, was something of a miraculous offer. “And here’s another two hundred caps in gratitude for your service to the great Dalton lineage,” she added, handing over another pouch.

He smiled blandly and nodded. “Is there a third chapter to this saga?”

“I was just about to mention that,” Dalton said. “Now, I don’t have to tell you that the bonds of blood and family are strong, as strong as any person can know. But if you ask me, the strongest among them is the bond that exists between two married people.”

It suddenly makes me wonder how people handle that in this situation, Mukuro wrote. Does the local leader function for such?

“That’s why the last part of this tale is the hardest one for me to tell. My late husband, Daniel, was the best fisherman this island ever saw. He and his crew had a favorite fishing spot out by Brooke’s Head Lighthouse. One day, a day I’ll never forget, I see Danny’s boat pullin’ up with his crewmen all shoutin’ and carryin’ on. Turns out some Trappers moved into the lighthouse, no doubt because the island told them to. They’re all crazier than a bag of mole rats. Their leader was havin’ a little target practice. Shot Danny right between the eyes. Killed him just like that. You go and get that son of a bitch,” she said viciously, dropping the pretense of the mysterious stranger. “You make him pay for doin’ the island’s bidding!”

Did she just call someone _else_ crazy? That’s hilarious.

“How would we get to Brooke’s Head Lighthouse?”

“It’s southwest of town, not far from the quarry.”

“All right. We’ll go check into it.”

“All right, then. Remember, Trappers may be half crazy from the Fog, but they still know how to use a gun.”

The Captain’s Dance was quite simple in the end. Heat vision showed him where the observer was located, but was otherwise ignored. Raw meat—angler, fog crawler—was dumped into the water where the quest marker indicated and they mowed down a bunch of mirelurks.

A second round was more of the same, and then they took down a mirelurk queen. He noticed as they were turning to leave that the observer remained, presumably to bring back the bounty of mirelurk meat for the benefit of the town.

The interesting part of the lighthouse, once they arrived, was contained within a single holotape.

> “Well, that settles it. I am one hundred percent screwed. Damn this fog. You’d think a lighthouse would be easy to find, but not in this. Never seen fog like it. Can’t believe I let myself get talked into this. How do I know that woman wasn’t crazy? I’m starting to think her whole story was some fantasy she cooked up to get attention. Taking out one trapper to avenge her husband’s death … it sounded easy enough. Now I wish I’d stayed far away from this godforsaken island. Shit … something’s coming.”

“The hell?” Ken said. “So we’re not the first people sent this way. How much of her stories are shit?”

“We can ask her once we return,” Mukuro said.

“The Trappers at the lighthouse are all dead now,” he said.

“Then it’s done. It’s finally done. All those lives lost … all those debts, finally repaid,” Dalton said. “And it was no son or daughter of Far Harbor who stood up to the island and avenged the Dalton bloodline. It was you, an outsider. A mainlander. The final chapter’s been written. The story has come to an end. This is a day I never thought I’d live to see. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So, about this holotape we found. Seems you sent someone out previously to the lighthouse. He was of the opinion your whole story was a lie. Before he died to those Trappers, anyway.”

“A lie?” she said. “No, no. It was true, or at least, there was truth in it. Was there a little harmless exaggeration as well? Perhaps. But some things are more important than the truth. Look at you, for instance. You’ve seen the island’s dangers and survived. You’ve learned something valuable.”

She does have a point, roundabout as it is.

“What’s more, the island learned something, too. It knows you’re not some green-backed mainlander who can’t tell up from down in the Fog. The island will respect you now, and that’s more than I can say for most who step off the boat. Now … every story’s got to have a happy ending, right? The hero finds the treasure, saves the sweetheart, an’ rides off into the sunset.”

In perpetually foggy Far Harbor?

“Well, I’m a little old to leap up on a horse, but I have got somethin’ close to a treasure. This is an heirloom that’s been in my family for … oh, let me think … oh, for at least a generation or two.”

Heirloom, my ass.

“There’s no Dalton’s left to inherit the thing, so it might as well pass on to you. The island knows this weapon. Oh yes. You carry this, and it’ll take you seriously.” Dalton grabbed a polehook that had been hung off the fencing and offered it. It had a Wounding mod on it, “visible” to Tsuna’s protagonist vision, so while it was not something he ever intended to use, it also wasn’t a bog standard PoS weapon, either.

“And that’s it. That’s the end. I can sleep easy now, knowin’ there won’t be any unfinished business when they put me in the ground. Off you go, now. My story’s over, but yours? I think yours is only just getting interesting.”

complete: blood tide

The doctor was over by the mirelurk boiling station, so he drifted over that way.

“Times are hard, but this here feast is proof that we can turn things around,” the doctor told those gathered. “Now I know mainlanders have been responsible for all manner of harm. But this one is special. This one did the Captain’s Dance.”

“It’s true, I saw it!” one of the harbormen said.

“So in my book, he’s not a mainlander anymore. He’s one of us.”

One of the cardboard cutouts cheered, and another shouted, “Mainlander!” before they dispersed.

“If these knuckleheads don’t trust you now,” the doctor said. “Well, fuck ’em, right? I expect folk will be more talkative now, might even have some more work for you. Maybe hit up Mitch at the Last Plank.”

Tsuna nodded. “Is there anything _you_ need?”

“Ha! You just don’t quit. No, no, I don’t need a damned thing. Ha. Take this and, if you’re inclined to, socialize. It’s your party, after all.” A tricorn was handed over, with a mod that would increase his movement speed.

He noticed a quest marker over Avery’s head, so he trundled over that way to see what the deal was. At the same time he got messages to help both Mitch and someone called Small Bertha.

“I hope the Harbor’s being good to you,” Avery said on seeing him approach. “At this point, I’d settle if folks were just plain civil.”

“What’s the history of this place?” he asked.

“Well, the whole dock used to belong to the Mariner. When the Fog started getting thicker—family by family, homestead by homestead, people were kicked out of their homes inland. The Mariner was kind enough to let people stay. The Harbor just kind of grew out of that charity.”

He hummed. “Are there any other jobs to be done that you’re aware of?”

“It’s never easy to ask anyone on this island for help, much less a stranger,” Avery replied. “But I’ve got a responsibility to these people, and I have a job for you if you’re up for it. Besides, I know you’re tougher than you look.”

Tsuna had to admit that his natural appearance did rather suggest a somewhat fluffy and weak pretty boy.

“Sure, what’s the job?”

“We get our drinking water from a purifier not far outside of town. We had a bad storm not long before you got here, and it must have damaged the fog condensers that protect the road to the purifier. I sent Howard Dunbar out to fix them. He was out there when the mirelurks hit us, and I’m afraid they might have gotten him, too. I was hoping you might go have a look. If … the worst happened … maybe you could get those fog condensers back online. If you’re up to it, just head south out of town. It’s paying work, of course. I wouldn’t ask a stranger to stick their neck out on our behalf unless I was willing to pay a fair share for it.”

“What exactly are these fog condensers? How do they work?”

“Well, I’m no engineer, but the way it was explained to me, each fog condenser pulls in the air around it and then condenses it into liquid. The point being, the Fog doesn’t get past them. They make a barrier that protects the town. No Fog means that all the nasty things living in it stay in it. They don’t venture out too often. The Fog’s their home, I guess. The fog condensers eat up a lot of power, but we’ve got a wind farm that takes care of that. As long as the turbines stay charged, we stay safe.”

“Will I need any tools or parts if it’s necessary for me to make repairs?”

“The fog condensers need their power modules replaced, but Howard took the only spares we had. Either way, you’re gonna have to find him first.”

“All right. We’ll head out now.”

“Good. Our water supply won’t last much longer.”

Because these people are incapable of old school methods to desalinate ocean water.

Since she was right there nearby (and a quest marker was showing) he stopped to speak to the Mariner.

“Mainlander,” she greeted. “I got one last idea. Crazier than a box of radroaches, but that hasn’t stopped you before. Hull’s got plenty of stopping power now. But if a mirelurk queen went for a frontal assault… Thicker walls can beat the whole mass, velocity, force issue, but the bigger problem is acid. Only thing I’ve ever seen survive a queen’s acid are other mirelurks. The mirelurks on our islands have carapaces that are extra tough.”

Says the woman who might never have stepped foot off this island.

“So, you gather up a bunch of carapaces and lug them back here. Then I’ll reinforce the town as best I’m able. Now, crabs are crawling all over the island along the coast, but you might want to check around Haddock Cove. That’s southwest of here, on the other side of the island.”

Small Bertha was next on his list to speak to, and she was tucked into a sheltered area on the backside of the Last Plank, at the end of the dock. When the child noticed him she immediately approached. “I have to talk to you. I got 14½ caps. I want to hire you.”

“What’s the job?”

“Harbormen don’t belong on this dock. If we keep clinging here, we’ll bleed out and die. To get better, to grow stronger, we need land.”

Then why are they called _harbor_ men?

“Echo Lake Lumber Mill has power lines that connect to the old Wind Farm. If you clear the land, harbormen can wire up the condensers. Make it safe from the Fog. I know the money’s a joke, but if my friends can resettle… I’m sure they’d do anything for you. And owe you big. Please help.”

“You got yourself a deal. We’ll take care of it.”

Small Bertha nodded and turned away, so Tsuna led Samsara into the Last Plank, where Mitch tended bar. He suffered through a long and boring conversation featuring local politics and cultural pride (some would say stubbornness and just plain being ornery), agreed to go find Mitch’s uncle (at the Visitor’s Center) and convince him to go to the relative safety of Far Harbor, then wandered back out again.

Howard Dunbar was very much dead, so Tsuna looted his corpse for the power modules they would need, then got on with making repairs. They were evenly spaced along the southerly-heading road marching up an incline. At the top of the hill was the final one, as well as a pond with several water purifiers taking up space.

He was just lucky enough that there were several mirelurks lurking, which were quickly killed and the carapaces ripped off. No need to cross the island to get any, which saved time.

Echo Lake Lumber Mill was on the west side of an inland bay (a “lake” only because of the string of tiny islands between it and the rest of the body of water) near the western coast of the island proper, west-southwest of Eagle’s Cove Tannery, due west of Acadia, according to his map. It was infested with ferals, so they employed the usual tactics of gaining height and sniping all they could, then moving in to get any stragglers. Tsuna did not feel like waiting for permission to start rebuilding the place, and was about to start scrapping everything in sight so they had a blank canvas to work with in terms of a decent place for these folks to live, when an odd man showed up.

He was muttering to himself and giggling crazily, which meant he was most likely a Trapper, but possibly just someone driven crazy by the Fog. “You got ’em… You got them shamblers. All dead… Heh. Fog’s quiet. The land’s mine again. For what you done—you can leave. Leave before I need to go a-huntin’ and kill.”

“Yeah, no. I was sent to claim the lumber mill for a group from Far Harbor.”

“This is my land! Keep the outsiders away! Or … wait. Ha. Let them come. Send them to me.” The man giggled again. “Send all of them to me. And then I’ll hunt ’em, salvage their gear, cut the meat. Then toss the remains for the Fog. What do you say? Got caps. Make it worth your while.”

“Vote?” he said.

Sin cast his vote with his gun, and a bullet through the man’s brain.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s get to scrapping. Once the harbormen get here they’ll be able to see where best to place the fog condensers. We just need to leave the power poles intact, and the lines.”

Before heading out to deal with Mitch’s Uncle Ken, they returned to Far Harbor to update the other three quest givers. The carapaces were handed over to the Mariner.

“Finally, it’s done. Everything that can be welded, duct taped, or super glued to the damn dock’s all there,” Mariner said in response. “Just gotta get these in place, and then I can sit a spell and relax. Take this. It’s well earned.” She handed over a harpoon gun that would ignore thirty percent of a target’s damage and energy resistance. Yet another weapon that would be shifted to the λ34 storage space. She also handed over more caps, which he passed off to Hayato for safekeeping.

Avery was hunted down and informed, “The fog condensers are back online.”

“Good. Our water supply was starting to get low. Wasn’t sure how much longer we could hold out. Did you … find Howard?”

“Yeah… Looks like he was taken out by some mirelurks we found right there near his body.”

Avery sighed. “Well, I said it was paying work. Two hundred caps should be enough. I need to start making arrangements for Howard, so I’ll say good-bye for now.”

His final stop for the moment was to Small Bertha, to let her know the mill had been cleared.

“We got to go see the Captain,” she said. “You’re… You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. Here’s your pay,” she said, handing over a fistful of caps before trotting off to find Avery. “People keep leaving the island. But now that there’s land, land to call their own, they’ll come back. My friends will send word. We’re going to turn back the tide. You’ll see.”

Avery was in conversation with the doctor.

“Excuse me,” Small Bertha said.

“Smalls, we got no time for you,” the doctor said.

Bertha scowled. “The mainlander cleared out Echo Lake Lumber Mill. So we got to act fast. We got to get off the docks, Captain. If you give us some of those Acadian fog condensers, my friends are ready to homestead that lumber mill.”

“Surviving is about more than taming Fog. We got to stay together, Bertha,” Avery said.

“But we’re no good here. Harbormen need their own land. Something to protect and hold.”

“I was wrong about you,” the doctor said.

“What?” Avery said.

“Not you,” the doctor said to Avery, then looked at Small Bertha. “You. Bertha knows this island better than you, Avery. We give folk some condensers, materials, and a chance to build defenses and they’ll survive all right. And thrive even. And even if they don’t make it, they go out with their heads held high.”

“Uh, if it makes a difference,” he said, “we did some preliminary work while we were there. There’s beds, crops, purifiers, defenses… There’s no reason these people can’t homestead the place. They would need those condensers, though.”

The doctor nodded. “Give them the fog condensers, Avery.”

“Well, I won’t stop you. But until we deal with the Children of Atom—settling the island again… It could blow up in your face.”

Given that Echo Lake Lumber Mill was not all that far from where the Children of Atom were set up, he could understand why she would say that.

“Come, Bertha. Let’s get you and your friends set up with some.”

The doctor saw fit to hand over some caps (presumably for a job well done), and Tsuna was about to head out to see about Uncle Ken when he noticed the Mariner had a quest marker again.

“You ever get a gnawing in your belly to do something crazy?” Mariner said as she welded something to a part of the Hull. “But reason and sense keep steering you clear?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“You’re the only mainlander I’d ever tell this, so hear me out. The Red Death. May have heard of it. The big monster lives beneath the waves. Only strikes when the Fog is thick. People think it’s some drunken sailor’s tale. But no one goes sailing when there’s a Fog on. In their bones, they know there’s something out there.”

Darling, why do you suddenly look so amused? Xeul asked.

Tsuna just smiled at him. “For whatever it’s worth, I believe you.”

The Mariner sighed. “Thank you. With my business here done, and knowing someone like yourself… I seek to end this unholy terror. Dozens of boats over the long years been claimed by it. I mean to hunt this Red Death. Are you with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Bring whatever weapons of death and mass destruction you got. Meet by the docks, you take your boat—I’ll take mine. This trip is going to test our mettle more than anything.” The Mariner finished up her welding job and stowed her tools, then started loading up with weapons.

When they made it down to the boat Avery was there waiting. “Mariner, please… I heard about this expedition of yours. We need you. Please, don’t do this.”

“I thought you didn’t believe, Captain, so what does it matter?” Mariner said. “Well, the mainlander does, and together we’re going to put an end to it.”

Avery sighed. “Mainlander, if the Red Death’s real… We can’t afford to lose you both.”

Tsuna’s brow went up. “I’m not sure where you got the impression I would always be here, Captain. But consider your warning delivered.”

Avery heaved another sigh and moped off toward the town proper.

There was a new option when he checked the navigation system of Nakano’s boat, one for Red Death Island.

“You read me, mainlander?” came over the radio, the Mariner’s voice. “I plotted a safe course for your boat. Don’t tamper with it. The shoals near where we’re headed can easily capsize a boat of your size. I’ll catch up to you.”

He nodded and set course.

“Not much farther, mainlander,” came through a bit later. It was a beautiful day out, and being away from the island and its almost constant state of fog meant the sun could be seen and appreciated, though it was colder being out on the water.

“When I was a little one, I went sailing with my aunt. Fog rolled in thick and fast. And we saw it. Glowing red, crimson. An unholy light that stretched to the sky! My aunt was no fool, we rowed to shore with all our might. Tide made it hard, but we hit landfall. When Aunty Stacey told others of her brush with the Red Death, they laughed at her. Called her a drunk or worse. True, she was known to dip into her cups. Then two weeks after a full fishing boat never came back. From the beach they saw the glow on the horizon. I been looking to end the reign of the Red Death's terror my whole life.”

A lighthouse was coming into view off the starboard side, but the boat changed course to avoid rocks sprouting from the water and hid it from view again.

“Wrecks all around it. There… You see it, right? Meet you there. And get prepared…”

He saw as their boat threaded through the wrecks that it was not the lighthouse they were headed for, but a tiny, rocky island some distance away, closer to their position. The boat came to a stop next to the shore, and they hopped out onto the beach. The Mariner’s boat slowed to a stop just a little later, and she joined them.

There was a glow, all right, though it was muted in the bright sunlight. When they got close enough, having to maneuver around an outcropping of rock, the Mariner said, “It can’t be. That? That’s the Red Death?”

She referred, of course, to a teeny-tiny mirelurk with eyes that glowed as red as the water in the small inland shallows, and the dirt at the edges. It was probably some sort of bioluminescent algae or something.

Tsuna bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cracking up, not only at her reaction, but at the WTF faces his family was sporting. “Think we can handle it?” he said with a straight face. “I am the General of the Minutemen and I could easily call in reinforcements.”

The Mariner shot him a sour look. “Oh, ha ha. What do we say to all the folk back home?” she said miserably. “If we tell them the truth, we’ll be a laughing stock.”

“I suggest we embellish a little. All good stories contain embellishments. Or a lot. Make it the stuff of legends.”

“I have little stomach for it… But, it’s better than the alternative. Let’s go. I thought… I got this for you to celebrate… I didn’t think it would turn out like _this_.” The Mariner handed over a set of harbormen clothing that would reduce damage taken from mirelurks and bugs by fifteen percent, then turned back to gaze unhappily at the Red Death.

The teeny, tiny, utterly adorable, little Red Death.

One bullet took the thing out, and then it was back to Far Harbor.

“They’re here!” he could hear Avery say. “They’re back!”

“Did you find it?” a cardboard cutout asked once they gained the upper level of the dock. “Did you end the scourge of the seas?”

“So … uh … we set sail. It was a terrible fight,” Mariner said, casting a somewhat agonized look his way.

“So you killed it?” another cardboard cutout asked.

“Oh yes, we did at that. It was … quite the sight.”

“Did you hear?” a cardboard cutout called. “They did it! The Red Death’s no more!”

“Did it take long? My gran figured it would take a mini-nuke direct to the center to the eye to do it in.”

“That … would’ve worked. But we made do,” Mariner replied, casting him another agonized look.

“The seas are ours again, we can fish in peace!”

“Tell me,” Avery said urgently. “Are you injured, Mariner? Are you okay?”

“No… We managed to get through unscathed.”

“Thank God,” a cardboard cutout said, “I thought for sure you were sailing to your graves.”

“Here’s to the heroes!”

The Mariner smiled awkwardly and moped off to her workshop.

“Time to go find Mitch’s Uncle Ken,” he declared cheerfully.

Uncle Ken was the usual curmudgeonly sort, the stereotypical old man who yelled things like, “Get off my lawn!” and insisted he was perfectly capable of handing the odd incursions of hostiles. That they found him tending to crops instead of resetting all his traps gave lie to that, as another incursion began barely a minute after they arrived.

Having been saved from his own foolishness, Uncle Ken was “convinced” to return to Far Harbor and its relative safety for the time being. Half of Samsara escorted him, to make certain he actually made it there (Tsuna got a quest update and a message about the reward, caps and a recipe for Fire Belly, whatever that was), then returned to help with scrapping and settlement making, with the Visitor’s Center being torn down and rebuilt into something that wasn’t full of holes, trash, piles of leaves, and completely useless display cases displaying nothing at all.

A wall was erected around the property, a plethora of turrets placed, and all the usual amenities, and then they returned to Far Harbor, to speak to Avery, who handed over a rescue diver suit that would allow Tsuna to breathe underwater after more praise for his selflessness.

“Time for our missing person case, then?” Daemon asked.

“Yep. Let’s go talk to … Old Longfellow.”


	18. λ34: 18: Far Harbor

## λ34  
18: Far Harbor  
“How ’bout bullets? Faith shield ya against those, too?”

Old Longfellow was having himself a drink at the Last Plank. He had long grey hair to go with his moniker and a muttonchop beard-mustache combo.

“Captain Avery said you can get me to Acadia,” he opened with.

“Heard there was a scuffle out there,” Longfellow replied. “You get your hands dirty? Hmph. I’m done leadin’ people to their deaths in the Fog. Last fella couldn’t keep up. Didn’t last five minutes.”

“We’re not that fella,” he said. “We’ve been hired to track down a missing daughter, who left evidence behind that she planned to go to Acadia.”

“If someone’s headed for Acadia, there’s always a story. Yours worth dying over? Eh?”

“I’ve done a whole lot more for a whole lot less.”

“Clever with words, are ya? I can get you to Acadia, but you’ve got to listen to me. Go where I say. When I say it. Still won’t be easy. You stock up on your necessities, Rad-X and the like. Then the real work can begin.”

“Already got all that. We’re ready to go now, if you are.”

“Follow me, then.” Longfellow stood up and made for the door. Outside he said, “Acadia’s above the Fog line on the mountain. It’s a bit of a hike. You might want to take this for the road. Tastes as foul as sin, but it’ll help.”

Tsuna took the mirelurk jerky with a moue of distaste, and shifted it out as he mimed placing it into his pocket.

“We need to move through the main drag. Old mountain trail is where we’re headed,” Longfellow said as he readied his gun. “The Fog ain’t like nothin’ you’ve seen in the Commonwealth. Mainlanders think a dose of RadAway’s all you need.” He chuckled, the sound of it as gritty as his voice. “See, the Fog can do a number on you. Gets you all turned around. Does somethin’ to your brain. Trappers were mean to begin with, but now…”

They were almost to the hotel north of Far Harbor, at what looked like a gatehouse, when Longfellow started talking again. “Here’s the mountain trail. We stick to this and we’ll make it to Acadia. You like them puppies? We grow everything extra mean on the island.”

Puppies? The hell is he talking about? We’ve encountered wolves around, but…

“Still got a ways to go.”

Part way up the winding road they heard a … sound. A growl of sorts, almost like someone’s stomach was complaining of hunger, but much louder, hollow, and echoing.

“Hear that? Crawler. They usually stick to the Deep Fog. Best we steer clear. But you never know. …When I was a young lad, no higher than your knee, whole island was covered in Fog. The Fog eventually rolled back. People resettled, but they got comfortable. Started takin’ things for granted. Folks got short memories, all this has happened before.”

They reached a plateau of sorts, with the road going one way, and a dirt path heading off to the northeast, relatively speaking. Longfellow kept to the road, though they had to pause to deal with gulpers and mirelurks looking for a meal.

“Gulpers got a fondness for fresh water. A small gulper, like the ones in these parts, is a fair challenge. Now, the big ones, they can grow two, three times the size of a man. Good thing you don’t see too many of them around.”

There was another pause to deal with some feral ghouls that crawled out of the undergrowth or piles of decaying leaves. Farther up was a grouping of nuclear waste barrels, which made it likely a Child of Atom was nearby, and sure enough, it wasn’t but another ten yards or so that he heard a woman say imperiously, “Hold there. Stringing more souls to their damnation, old man?”

She was a real sight, dressed in rags, blackened eyes, and barely any hair left on her head.

“Well, what have we here?” Longfellow drawled. “Another rad-worshipin’ lunatic, that’s what.”

“Your barbs do not harm me. I am shielded by my faith.”

“How ’bout bullets? Faith shield ya against those, too?”

“You,” the woman said, angling her head toward Tsuna. “I suggest you go no farther. Acadia is a nest of snakes. Beasts that subvert the will of Atom.”

“And what’s Acadia done to make you say that?”

“They supply Far Harbor with the means to turn back Atom’s holy fog. You would do well to avoid such creatures and instead seek the only true master of this land.”

“Yeah, no, don’t think so.”

“Watch yourself, outsider,” she said sharply. “You walk through Atom’s kingdom now.”

“And you’re nothing more than a zealot.”

“If you’re done wastin’ time with the fanatic,” Longfellow said, “let’s move on. Up ahead, the air’s clean. No Fog. Acadia’s not too far now.”

And indeed, the sky above was becoming markedly clearer, the grip the Fog had on the island melting away. He could see a huge wind turbine off to the left, an outbuilding of some kind, and the dome of what had once been a functioning observatory.

The road leveled out as a gatehouse appeared on the right, and he could more clearly see that the usual bashed-together-from-scrap fence surrounded the observatory. Once inside it he could see guard posts, other outbuildings, and storage areas.

“And we’ve arrived. Acadia’s already been watchin’ us for a good spell. If you want to talk with them just go inside. They’ll be waiting for you. You need my help again, you come see me. Got a cabin just outside of Far Harbor. Good place to tool up your gear, get some rest, or get stinkin’ drunk. Just make sure if you’re bringin’ a bottle of somethin’ strong, there’s enough to share.”

“Perhaps later, Longfellow.”

“All right, but I’m serious about the offer. You ever want to hunt the forests and waters of the island together, I could think of worse things to do.” Longfellow stalked off down the road again and out of sight.

Tsuna shook his head slightly, wondering if he should at some point do Longfellow the dubious favor of revamping his cabin, then headed on inside.

“You know, when I first climbed this mountain, above the fog, I thought to myself: now here is a metaphor worth taking in.” The voice came from a figure at the end of the hall, standing next to a red emergency light on the wall. Due to the overall dimness of the interior, it made it difficult to see properly who was speaking.

But then, Tsuna already knew who it was. Tsuna strolled forward as DiMA stepped into a pool of light, revealing the figure to be a battered Gen-2 synth, legs wrapped in some dark material, and bits and pieces sticking out of his head and shoulders.

“You’ve entered a place of clarity. Understanding. Peace. While you’re here in Acadia, synth-kind welcomes you, as long as you welcome us.”

Tsuna nodded. “We are here in search of a young girl by the name of Kasumi Nakano.”

“Really? I’m impressed.” DiMA had a voice somewhat similar to Valentine’s, but far more flat, with no Bogart, almost as if he’d been drugged. “Few would brave the kind of journey you’ve had for the sake of someone else. Kasumi is here. She’s safe and unharmed, and you’re free to see her, if you’d like. Before you do, though, tell me: Do you think Kasumi is a synth?”

“We’re not answering any questions until you play straight with us,” Valentine said. “Just who the hell are you, really? There’s only one synth with that kind of face and a mind of his own, and I only see him when I look in a mirror.”

“Nick!?” DiMA said in surprise, though given how apathetic his voice was, the sound of it fell flat. “It … it can’t be you…”

“Don’t give me that. What are you trying to pull? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“Please. If you’re willing to give me a chance, I can explain.”

He moved back a little, so he could stand shoulder to shoulder with Valentine. “We’re listening.”

“Let me tell you what I know, and you can judge for yourself.”

Tsuna wondered just how well DiMA could even see. His eyes were clouded, as if he had cataracts, unlike Valentine’s glowing yellow rings on black.

“We were prototypes, Nick. The first synths capable of independent thinking and judgment.”

“Keep talking,” Valentine said warily.

“One of the Institute’s experiments had to do with how our brains could process personality. If we could handle individualized feelings and behaviors. I was allowed to develop mine based on experience. But with you, they wanted to try transferring an entire personality into you. It took several attempts before the personality imprint worked. I saw you wake up not knowing who or what you were so many times… I couldn’t let them do it to you anymore. We were the only two prototypes they made. I literally saw myself in you… You were my brother, Nick. I helped you escape the Institute. We left together.”

“If I were your brother, I’d remember!”

“That’s where you’d be wrong. This happened over a century ago. There’s … there’s only so much memory that can fit into the prototype brains we have.”

Valentine scoffed. “I’ve heard enough.” To Tsuna, in a much lower voice, he said, “I think you and I need to talk about this. Maybe not now, though…”

He nodded and faced DiMA. “We need to get back to why we’re here. Kasumi Nakano.”

“Nick, I don’t need you to believe me. I’m just glad to see you again. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. Now, about young Kasumi… It’s important that you understand exactly why she’s here. I asked you before if you think she’s really a synth. If you could indulge me with an answer…”

“My answer? My answer is that I don’t care either way. Who or what she is isn’t important.”

“But it is,” DiMA said. “It’s everything. Imagine just looking at your own hands and having to wonder: Was I born with these, or were they manufactured? None of us take this transition lightly. She’s facing the possibility of her entire life being a lie. That someone stripped her very identity away from her and made her into something she isn’t. I want you to understand that before you see her. She has a chance to live as a synth. Not hiding. Not pretending to be something else.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. I’m not an idiot. What I care about is that she has two very worried parents who are desperate to know what’s happened to their daughter. Synth or human, it’s irrelevant in the face of those family bonds.”

“…One more question, if you’ll indulge me. You’re here for Kasumi, but I suspect there could be another reason you came to us. Tell me: Are you a synth?”

“No, but if I squint real hard in the mirror, sometimes I look like someone else.”

DiMA chuckled. At least he had something of a sense of humor. “I’m afraid when I try that trick, nothing really changes. I know it might seem impossible that you could be a synth, but tell me, what’s the first thing you remember?”

Tsuna rolled his eyes. “That’s a ridiculous question and you must know that. If I were a synth, I would have been implanted with a full set of memories. Me remembering when I was five years old and my mother calling for me to wash up because breakfast is ready means nothing. Nor does anything else I could share—and trust me, I remember a whole lot of things. All of that could easily be the result of memory implantation. So unless you feel like opening my skull and rooting around for a synth component, you may as well drop it.”

“Okay… You’re not ready to have this conversation.”

Tsuna rolled his eyes again. “You sound like a cult leader trying to bring another lamb into the fold.”

“Whatever you believe, we will accept you for who you are. Synth or human.”

“That’s just lovely.”

“Acadia is open to you. Feel free to walk the grounds. Introduce yourself to my co-founders, Faraday and Chase. Kasumi is usually working down below, whenever you wish to see her. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss before you go?”

He hummed. “I suppose I should mention—since I doubt you get Diamond City radio this far out—that the Institute has been destroyed.”

“What!? It’s … over? No more Courser hunts? No more slavery? But … that also means the technology to make the synths is lost. Our origins have been buried. Not to mention, the loss of human life… Sorry. I’m not going to judge the actions of someone who’s wiped out a great evil. You have our gratitude.”

“You assume too much,” he said. “You’d be right in one respect, as I did work with the Railroad on taking down the Institute, but you’d be wrong to assume as much loss of human life. Those who failed to heed the evacuation order, sure. But the rest? They made it out. All the Gen-3 synths, the children, many of the personnel.”

“…Really? I don’t understand why a group dedicated to helping synths would convince them, through fear, that their only option is to hide. Yes, they ‘volunteer’ for the memory wipe. Yes, not knowing you’re a synth makes it harder for the Institute to find you. But the cost… I know how frightening it is, the risk of capture. But sacrificing what you are, avoiding the true struggle to be accepted as our own form of life…”

He heaved a sigh and shook his head slightly. “You won’t get an argument from me on that score. I personally think it’s cowardly to agree to the memwipe. It’s death of a different kind, rather than having the courage to face things, to face life, with all its inherent hardships. Those synths developed self awareness, they became more than just puppets, and then they threw it away due to fear. They had the courage to escape, as you did, but not the courage to see it through. In that respect? They’re not much different than a human being.”

“I’m … sorry,” DiMA said. “It’s easy for me to worry about our ideals while I’m so far away from the Commonwealth, in relative safety. …Can I help you with anything else?”

He shook his head and started to turn away, only to hear a voice issuing from a speaker to the right.

“You were in there a long time … are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” DiMA said as he walked over to stand nearer to a section of the wall showing an observation room. “You worry too much.”

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t worry enough. You know we blew three more relays this week. I’m coming in. You stay right there.”

Lab-Coat appeared from the hallway and skittered over to DiMA as Tsuna gazed upward to take in the telescope.

“I was having a hard enough time keeping up with repairs before all this nonsense with the Atom lunatics.”

“They’re nothing you need to be concerned about,” DiMA said, seemingly unaware that he had yet to even introduce himself. Tsuna supposed in that regard he could excuse his own lack of manners.

“It’s not them. I’m concerned about you, DiMA. You can’t solve all the world’s problems, certainly not all at once.”

“Dearest Faraday… Relax. All will be fine.”

That was his cue to wander off in Kasumi’s direction. Speaking to Faraday and Chase could wait a little. They were halfway down the first flight of stairs when Valentine absentmindedly bumped into him.

“What? Oh, sorry. Just got my head full of what DiMA was talking about. It’s a … bit of a shock. What do you think? Is he … family?”

“Before I answer, are you okay?”

“I’ll keep. Don’t worry. Just need to figure this all out.”

“I don’t know quite what to think, not yet,” he said. “There’s not enough data. The similarities are obvious, but it takes more than just being … born … brothers to be brothers, if that makes sense. My family, they’re not my blood. They _are_ family, though, more so than any blood family ever has been—with one exception. So maybe he is, but maybe he isn’t. I find myself grateful he got you out of there, if that’s actually what happened, because you have a life, you have Ellie, your agency—you have friends and respect. And we’ve had the pleasure of knowing you.”

Valentine smiled briefly. “I spent a long time wondering if the Institute had made any other prototypes. If I was just a … failure, or they gave up, or just plain got bored. I always thought I was just more of their discarded trash. Never thought of the possibility that someone wanted me out. Helped me escape. There’s gotta be some kind of proof out there. What really happened between me and DiMA. I’d appreciate it if we could keep an eye out.”

“Of course, Valentine. And between us all, that’s a lot of eyes to be looking.”

“Thanks. I know we don’t have much to go on. Just keep it in mind, chase down any rabbits connected to DiMA and Acadia.”

He nodded. “Let’s go find Kasumi, then.”

She was on the lowest level, working on some big piece of machinery that Tsuna didn’t even try to make sense of. As they got closer to the marker he was following he heard her sigh and say, “Circuitry is completely fried…” The voice matched the one on the holotapes, which was good.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you Kasumi Nakano?”

“Sorry, I’m right in the middle of something.”

“Yes, I see that. However, I was hired to find you.”

At that she stood up and turned around. “You … what? You came all this way … for me?”

“You left without telling your folks why,” Valentine said. “You must’ve known they’d be worried.”

“Look, my mom and dad… I mean, those people that were taking care of me. They wouldn’t want me back. Not if they knew the truth. I thought if I just left it would be easier for them. How would that conversation have gone, anyway? ‘I’ve been lying to you this whole time? Your real daughter is dead, and I replaced her?’ ”

“They’re already aware you think you’re a synth, and practically shoved a boat at us so we could come find you. They’re very worried. Your parents must be incredibly good actors then to have fooled us with that show of worry and love and fear for your sake, that you could be hurt, or dying, or dead. I know you won’t want to hear it, but you’re young. You have doubts about who you are. We all go through it, it’s just a part of life. Whether you’re a synth or not, they’re still your parents, and they very much want you home.”

“I… I really wish that were true. If I wasn’t a synth, things would be so much simpler.” Kasumi sighed. “Acadia isn’t what I thought it was. There’s more going on here than just the refuge. But I can’t leave until I’ve gotten to the bottom of it. I’ve been running long enough.”

“Valentine here is a damn good detective, and I partner up with him on some of his cases. Tell us what’s happening. We can help you.”

“…It’s a long story, but… What if I told you that there’s a secret. A big secret. Here, on this island. Something way more important that just one lost girl? You saw all those computers that DiMA’s hooked up to, right? They hold his memories or offload data from his brain. Maybe some combination of both? Well, Faraday asked me to help do some repairs on them.

“And, you know, I got curious. There’s like a century’s worth of life experiences in there. And that’s when I see it. Data models DiMA has been making. One was the Fog taking over Far Harbor. Another was a nuclear detonation on the island. Plus death counts. What if DiMA was so open and welcoming because he’s actually hiding something from us? A plan to wipe out the rest of the island?”

“We should get to the bottom of this,” Valentine said. “If DiMA is putting on an act, we need to know.”

Tsuna nodded, hoping they could bunk off to storage soon to have a shower, a meal, and relax a bit. “Any ideas on how to do that digging? I mean, is he holding super secret meetings with people? Something we can spy on?”

“Oh, yes. I keep seeing DiMA, Faraday, and Chase head into the laboratory at the other end of the hall. Then they come out later, looking like they’ve been arguing. There’s actually a storage space right next to there. It’d be a perfect spot to hide and eavesdrop, but it’s been locked up. I’ve also tried breaking into Faraday’s terminal, since he and DiMA are so close, but the security on it is crazy.”

“Since it’s just down the hall, we’ll try eavesdropping first. If that’s not enough we can hack the terminal. And if that fails? We get blunt.”

“Okay,” Kasumi said agreeably. “Good luck, and come back as soon as you’ve found anything.”

“From one case to a new one,” Valentine said. “It’s never easy for us, is it?”

“Uh, easy is boring?” he replied as he started for the hallway. Of course, by the time they got out of earshot he added, “Though it would be so much simpler to get her home and then investigate.”

“I hear you.”

Sin picked the lock and they all slipped inside, Ken closing the door as he was the last one through. It was terribly convenient that there was a window wall in there, facing the “laboratory”, high enough up that they could easily sit under it and listen in. It was simply a question of how long they would need to wait before another meeting happened.

A woman entered the laboratory, alerting them to a meeting about to take place. She (presumably Chase) was followed by Faraday a few moments later, and then DiMA. It begged the question of why they bothered to go all the way down to hold these meetings, when they could have as easily done so upstairs in Faraday’s workroom, as there hadn’t been any other synths on that level to overhear. And in any case, they could simply have kept their voices down.

“We need to accomplish this without bloodshed. Far Harbor and the Children of Atom have a right to exist on this island. The same as us,” DiMA opened the meeting with.

“They’re going to kill each other, DiMA,” Chase said. “There’s no stopping it. We need to pick a side now.”

“Haven’t we already picked a side?” Faraday said. “Building the fog condensers around Far Harbor wasn’t exactly a neutral act.”

“We couldn’t stand by and let the people of this island die to the Fog,” DiMA said.

“Just like you couldn’t leave the Cult of Atom without a home?” Chase accused. “Giving them the submarine base was a mistake. The ‘Nucleus’, as they’re calling it, is basically one big fortified position.”

“Far Harbor had cast them out. They have strange beliefs, but they have always accepted us for what we are. And Confessor Martin was a friend.”

“Well the new confessor isn’t. ‘High Confessor’ Tektus is an unstable megalomaniac and he’s going to keep threatening us as long as we’re helping Far Harbor,” Chase rebutted.

“Guys. Can we talk about the elephant in the room?” Faraday said. “We keep dancing around it.”

“My old memory banks in the submarine base.”

“I can’t believe you never told me about those,” Chase said. Interestingly, she was still garbed in Courser gear. “I have to wait until they become a security risk.”

“I know how it looks in hindsight, but at the time, it was an act of trust. I was honestly more worried they’d accidentally trip the prewar security and get hurt. Giving the Children my old home. Allowing them to safeguard my old memories. I thought our people would be working together.”

Chase heaved a sigh. “Just how secure are the banks? How long do we have? And what’s in them?”

“I’ve gone over this before, Chase. I don’t know what’s in them. That’s how it works. It’s as close to ‘forgetting’ something as I have. But I’ve run some projections of … worst-case scenarios. If we do nothing, and the wrong knowledge falls into the wrong hands—”

“So send me over there. I’ll be in and out in a day.”

“We can’t risk it. They know you’re from Acadia. If you’re caught or even seen, then it’s war.”

“We should at least prepare her to go in. We’re running out of options. I say we tell her how to crack into the memory banks.”

“You’ve been working on this without me?” Chase asked in disbelief.

“It … came up in a private moment, Chase. But yes, we’ve been writing a program that will let you access and download my memories. It’s not going to be like a normal hack. You’ll be breaking through a version of my own mental network. It’ll consider you to be an intruder. I’ve loaded the program with some instructions I’ve recorded that will help guide you through it. I’m afraid it’s difficult to explain without seeing it for yourself.”

“I’m finishing up some tweaks to the program right now,” Faraday said. “I’ll leave a copy of it for you on my desk when I’m done.”

“Get the program. Use it to break into the memory banks. Got it.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to,” DiMA said. “We’ll keep monitoring the situation. I only want you going in if we have no other choice.”

The three of them apparently decided nonverbally that the conversation was over, and exited the room.

“So DiMA’s got his fingers everywhere on this island. And whatever’s in his memories isn’t something we can wait for someone else to find.”

“Agreed. Someone please get a window on Faraday’s desk, so we can grab that holotape once he leaves it out.”

Xeul nodded.

“Let’s go update Kasumi, and then we can check to see if Faraday or Chase have any tasks they could use some help with.”

“Turns out DiMA’s earliest memories are in the hands of the Children of Atom and he’s afraid of them attempting to figure out what they are, or what they might find.”

“So is that what those death projections were about? It wasn’t DiMA planning to destroy the island. He’s worried the Children of Atom will? Or, is he still hiding something? What could be in those memories that he would leave them behind? Is there really something in them that’s … dangerous? Do you have a way in? Into his memories? Assuming you can get past the Children of Atom, of course…”

“I will have, as soon as Faraday finishes it. It will help us to access those memory banks, obtain copies of any memories he left there.”

“Really? How would that work? When I was taking a peek in the computers he has here, DiMA was hooked up to his chair. I was just tapping into it. I wonder if you’ll need to, you know, connect to the old banks the way he does? Some kind of connection between your head and the computer. I bet that’s it! And then Faraday’s program would be translating DiMA’s thoughts and data. Helping you through any security guarding it. I’m sorry, I’m making assumptions. It’s just … well, it’s a little exciting, isn’t it? You’ll let me know what you find? I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

“Yeah. Once we have them, we can talk about where to go from there.”

“Good luck,” Kasumi said, then wandered off to do whatever it was she did there. Tinkering with more machines, presumably.

“Time for Faraday and Chase, then?” Hayato asked.

“And then I think a break. It’s almost dark according to my watch, and I want to shower, eat, and do something like watch a silly movie. Something not serious.”

Chase was leaning against a railing on the top level. “Did you need something?”

“Just checking to see if you needed help with anything.”

“Actually… As a matter of fact, there is. If you’re serious about contributing … well, we’ve got a situation I need someone to look into. You’ve had some experience traveling around the island, so you may be decently equipped to handle it.”

“Details?”

“We were expecting a new synth to arrive, and he should have been here by now. There’s been no sign of him, and I’m concerned that he might have become lost on the way here.”

“Okay. Any leads on where to begin the search?”

“Yes. You should start by talking to Brooks in Far Harbor. He’s one of us, a synth. He’s the one who meets new arrivals and gets them started on the journey here. Of course, he’s not likely to tell you anything without proof that you’re working for me. If he doesn’t cooperate, tell him that his designation is L7-92. That should convince him. That’s as much help as I can give you for now. Please, hurry. If that synth is out there alone, he won’t last long.”

Faraday, when approached, said, “So, you’ve talked to DiMA. You know why we’re here. I certainly hope that you’ll consider helping us. DiMA’s vision is worth fighting for.”

“I agree, it’s a good cause. Synths deserve to be safe just like everyone else.”

“It’s so good to hear that. Very encouraging. Please make sure DiMA knows that as well. He’s put so much of himself into this… All his time and energy, devoted to helping others. He never stops to think of himself. Sometimes I worry about… Well, if I wasn’t here to make sure his equipment is all functional… And that’s not even mentioning maintaining the fog condensers… So many things to keep track of.”

“You do all this work yourself?”

“Mostly, yes. I get help from the others when I can, but no one else really understands DiMA the way I do.”

“Well, if there’s anything you need help with…?”

“If you’re determined to help, there is something you could do. It’s likely somewhat dangerous, though, so I understand if you’d rather not. There’s a boat along the coast of the island. It was transporting some hardware we need. Storage drives. The boat never finished the trip, you see. So the drives are still out there. I could really use them here, for extra parts if nothing else. My understanding is that the boat wrecked somewhere southeast of here. So, does this sound like something you could handle?”

“Do you know what happened to the boat?”

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” Faraday said. “Trappers, fog crawlers … there’s no end to what’s out there. And what might still be out there.”

Anyone who uses the phrase “to be honest” is usually hiding something, Hayato commented.

“The point is that we already lost someone once. I don’t want to see that happen again. So, are you up for it?”

“Sure, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

“While I’m here, can you tell me about the fog condensers?”

“Oh, those? DiMA and I designed them when it became clear the fog was only getting worse. They’re effective, but have such a limited range. DiMA insisted we provide them to the people of Far Harbor, and I’m so glad we did. Without the condensers, I’m not sure they’d have anywhere left.”

“And you? What of you?”

“Me? I don’t know why you’d care,” Faraday said, with just the barest emphasis on “you’d”. “I escaped the Institute, just like the others here. Never had _my_ mind wiped, thankfully. I like to think I came along right when DiMA needed me. I found him before all this, before Acadia. He needed my help, though he refused to admit it. He’s always been stubborn like that. Anyway, I’ve been by his side ever since, making sure he has everything he needs.”

“Are you willing to talk about the work that’s been done on DiMA? It looks like quite a lot.”

“Well, that’s certainly an understatement. Between the two of us, we’ve made so many modifications. He was just a prototype, never built for all this. It took a lot to overcome the limitations of the original design and expand his memory. It really is remarkable, isn’t it? He’s overcome so much… He’s become so much more than he once was. And all he thinks of is others.”

Tsuna nodded and said, “Thank you, for being willing to help me understand a few things. I’ll be heading out to take care of these two tasks, then.”

Faraday nodded, so Tsuna wandered off toward the exit. As soon as they were in a safe enough place they prepared to shift. On the off chance Acadia had cameras out that they could not see… Clones were formed around all of them before they shifted to storage.

“Right,” he said as they began passing through the decontamination arch. “Consider ideas for a meal, and we’ll meet in the kitchen.”

“Is it just me,” Chikusa said, “or is Faraday in love with DiMA?”

“Certainly seemed that way to me,” Ken said, sliding plates of Kung Pao chicken onto the table.

Tsuna slid more plates onto the table and took a seat, then picked up his hashi so he could enjoy the meal. He had to wonder just how this Nick Valentine would end up reacting to what would come out about DiMA. The same or similar? Even if not, he would know in the end how it was he ended up in that pile of trash, so it was one question he’d been gnawing on for decades which would be answered.

Daemon pinned him with a look, an unspoken question.

“Eh… I don’t think we’re going to like what we’ll find,” he said and had a bite of his food. It wasn’t just prior knowledge of the game. Being there, standing in front of DiMA, in a “real” world… He felt an underlying sense of uneasiness. “For the record, though, I also think Faraday is in love with DiMA. Just the way he talks, that he’s the only one who truly understands the man? Huh… Chase seems more level-headed, straightforward, and practical.”

“DiMA seems to be wearing a set of self-imposed blinders,” Hayato said. “He helped the people of Far Harbor with the fog condensers, even knowing how the Children of Atom would react? And yet he doesn’t think he’s taking a side? And he’s stuck on his friendship with the previous confessor, rather than facing the reality of who currently holds that position? The same person who is presumably advocating the destruction of Far Harbor?”

“That chick we met on the way up to Acadia certainly didn’t win any prizes when it came to diplomacy,” Ken said. “Nor, presumably, the preacher who visited Far Harbor and ticked off Allen so much that he killed him.”

“DiMA seems to be blind to the idea that the Children may want them both out of the picture,” Xeul said. “Acadia for helping the heathens, and Far Harbor for being heathens. Still, for the synths of Acadia, well, that’s something I can get behind. They’re at least there, fully aware of their … race, as it were. I do wonder how the fog condensers and spare parts are getting to Far Harbor, though. Do they bring them down, or does someone like Longfellow go up?”

“We should probably hunt down this Nucleus,” Daemon said. “We might not get to it for a day, depending on how long it takes to handle the tasks for Chase and Faraday, but knowing where it is means we have a window on it.”

“Have your maps been updating the way mine has?” Tsuna asked.

Sin checked his Pip-Boy and nodded. “Yes, apparently. How about we split, then? Some for Chase, some for Faraday, and one to track down the Nucleus to get a window on it?”

“I’ll take the Nucleus, then,” Daemon said. “It’s not as if I have to be seen at any point, and if I can get a window inside, well. That just makes things simpler. The only other options I see are going in guns blazing, or pretending to want to join the cult, and neither of those appeal. Besides, most cults have a tendency to politely demand you strip down and turn over all your worldly goods before handing over a uniform for you to wear so you can blend in with the herd.”

“That’s fine,” he said, then had another bite of his meal. Daemon, get inside and go to the far end. Basically, straight ahead from where you enter. Then up. There’s a door up top on the far, narrow wall, guarded by a single Child, but it’s in an alcove of sorts. If you can get a window on that spot I can harmonize through the door. Or, you Mist-fuck the Child to not notice when you open that door, so you can get a visual on the interior.

“So Xeul and I should be on separate teams,” Mukuro said.

Tsuna hummed. “Me, Xeul, Sin, and Valentine. We can go after those drives. Should just be a fairly quick jaunt south and a bit west from Acadia. We’ll just have to shift over invisibly, so we don’t catch anyone’s eyes. I don’t know if Longfellow meant that those on guard duty were keeping eyes on the approach or what, but they don’t need to know we can shift.”

“I think we should watch a comedy tonight,” Sin said, eyeing Tsuna.

“I’m for it,” he said with a slight smile. “Suggestions?”

“Since part of our quest here on the island involves the military, however peripherally, I say something with the military in it,” Daemon said.

“Evolution,” was Ken’s suggestion.

“Periscope Down,” was Chikusa’s.

“Sgt Bilko,” was Hayato’s.

Mukuro and Sin immediately weighed in for Sgt Bilko, and it ended up winning the vote.

Tsuna’s team went invisible and shifted over to Acadia, then skittered down the side of the cliff the observatory perched on and once down headed toward the quest marker he could see. It was slightly odd, he realized, that Valentine had never once questioned how he always seemed to know where to go. Then again, most of the time, the residents of the Commonwealth, Nuka-World, and Far Harbor seemed incapable of noticing the entirety of his family standing right there.

The wreck was indeed on the coast, right outside Southwest Harbor. The water was slicked with some kind of fuel, burning, sending up gouts of black smoke. Across the water was the Vim! Pop Factory, but he saw no reason to go there just yet. A handful of Trappers needed to be relieved of life before they could investigate the wreck.

One drive was inside a blue shipping container, while a second was just outside it. The container also had one of those displays as seen in the observatory, the ones with the funny round monitors. There was a steamer trunk also present, to the right of where the second drive had rested, but he already knew—or assumed based on the game—that it required a key and contained something he wasn’t particularly interested in.

He did check the rest of the boat, after a token attempt at the trunk, and instead opened the steamer trunk inside the cabin, which held some ammunition, a few weapons, and some caps.

“Should we haul this trunk along?” Xeul asked. “I mean, if it was on this boat, it might have been intended for Acadia.”

“We could. We’d have to make it look good, dragging it up the road, because—well, no idea how heavy it is.”

Xeul went over and hauled it up, then set it back down. “Not too bad, but certainly not thrilling. We could manage it, though.”

Tsuna hummed. “All right. Let’s bring it along. We can leave it with Faraday. Maybe he has the key. For all we know there’s another drive in there. Let’s shift to that gatehouse at the bottom of the road up to Acadia. One of us can always drag an illusion, so we’re not wearing ourselves out, and just replace it with the real thing at the last minute.”

A window unglossed and Mukuro said, “We can meet you at the gatehouse, darling. We’re just handling a tiny bit of clean up and then we’ll be done.” Given the sounds of gunfire in the background, he knew exactly what choice they had made when confronted with the synth’s fate.

“All right. We’ll wait for you there. See you shortly.”

The window reglossed, so he took Valentine’s arm, waited for Sin and Xeul to be ready, then shifted to the gatehouse. The trunk served as a place to sit down.

“Considering that there were only a few Trappers there,” Valentine said.

“I suppose, given the nature of the sanctuary, that focus on combat abilities is not pushed,” Sin said. “Synths having escaped the Institute and found their way here, well, I imagine they would need some combat ability, and certainly stealth.”

“Then again, people don’t have our advantages,” he said. “They could use Stealth Boys, but I’m not certain those even work properly against creatures. Some might be able to smell you coming, or sense heat signatures.”

Valentine hummed. “And there aren’t all that many synths there. I can understand why they would be reluctant to risk more if one has already been lost.”

Mukuro, Chikusa, Ken, and Hayato all shifted in, so Tsuna got up and prepared to walk. Xeul and Ken grabbed the trunk and hefted it up, and with that they proceeded up the road, Mukuro’s team filling them in on the fate of that poor synth.

“Unfortunately, your missing synth was jumped by cannibal Trappers,” he informed Chase. “He did not survive the encounter.”

“That poor bastard,” Chase said mournfully. “That synth came here to live in peace, and we failed him in the worst way possible. It’s my fault. I should have gone out there to meet him. Damn it all. …I’m glad we were able to bring some closure to the matter. You deserve this, and … shall we say two hundred caps?”

Tsuna nodded, and was handed a CIT laser pistol with a mod to improve damage dealt, if the user was aiming at the time, rather than shooting from the hip.

Faraday was doing his usual tech stuff, which meant it was more or less incomprehensible to Tsuna, and uttered a distracted, “Yes?” when approached.

“We retrieved those storage drives you asked for.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Faraday said, turning toward him so he could accept the two they found. “Thank you… Uh… Just the two? Really? I somehow thought there were three…”

“Ah, well, there was this locked trunk we also noticed,” he said, nodding his head at the thing. “Maybe the last one is in there? It needs a key, so we couldn’t open it. Brought it along instead, figuring you might have it.”

“Chest? Key?” Faraday eyed the trunk. His expression was a peculiar mixture, but deciphering it was next to impossible given the low light conditions, and Tsuna did not think he’d appreciate having a Pip-Boy light shined into his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t know… I, uh… You know what, this is fine. Just these two is fine. Well, you did your part, so I’ll do mine. Thank you for recovering these.”

He nodded. “We also saw one of these monitor sets, without the casing, but that was far too heavy for us to bring that distance, unlike the trunk.”

“Ah, yes, I imagine it would be.” Faraday handed over a pouch, presumably full of caps, and trundled off with the storage drives.

Hell, Tsuna didn’t even know if the things were functional considering where they were found. One good storm…

That out of the way, only one remaining Far Harbor quest remained in his quest log: best left forgotten. And for that they needed to wait until Faraday completed his tweaks to the program and left a holotape for Chase.

“Hang on,” Daemon said, “a speech is starting up. Let’s listen in, shall we?”

Tsuna diverted his attention from their game to the window Daemon brought into focus. The interior of the Nucleus was very dim, lit only by glass bottles and bulbs filled with a glowing, yellow, (presumably) radioactive liquid, the vessels hanging here and there within the base, as well as green-glowing fungi found in many places on the outside.

A man in an elaborate headdress stood atop the submarine in there, hands outstretched like a bizarro Jesus, as he addressed the faithful.

“They are doomed, brothers and sisters. And they know it. The people of Far Harbor need only peer out their windows to look upon the face of Atom himself, given form in holy Fog! Yet no matter how inevitable Atom’s reign in this land may be, they deny it. Scoff at us behind their condensers, kill our missionaries, slay those who only wish to bring them the Light! No longer. After years of skulking in the shadows like whipped dogs, our purpose is clear.

“And I know the key to our victory lies within the Nucleus itself. We will claim the secrets hidden away by that accursed robot and with them, we will wipe Far Harbor from the island! Atom’s veil will roll down its streets, holy Fog cleansing the land of their heresy! And when we are finally granted Division, it will be as heroes! A new day dawns, brothers and sisters! Glory to Atom!”

“Glory to Atom!” many voices called out in chorus.

Tsuna shook his head. “These people frighten me. But, I suppose any zealot would. They’re like the worst aspects of organized religion, wrapped up in a cult. I can’t help but see them as defects.”

“The set in the Glowing Sea wasn’t too bad,” Sin said.

“No, but they might be the exception,” Xeul said. “Or maybe it’s just a crapshoot.”

“Well, yeah,” Hayato said. “The Glowing Sea bunch wasn’t so bad, though wary. Kingsport were all bugnuts, this bunch is crazy—but the previous confessor sounded like an okay guy if DiMA is to be believed. Trying to think where else we’ve run across them…”

“More importantly, we’ve just heard it from the horse’s mouth, as it were,” Chikusa said. “They intend to not only obtain those memories, but to use that information to wipe out both Acadia and Far Harbor.”

“I don’t see how we can just sit here and watch as they murder a bunch of good people,” Ken said, shaking his head. “And it would negate what we’ve done to clear areas for people to settle at, making all of that pointless and a waste of time. True, the defenses we’ve set up at each would more than likely shred any incursions, and they only have so many cultists to deploy, but still.”

“Much as I hate the idea of just…” Valentine trailed off, his expression uncertain. “They do present a clear and present danger to people just trying to live their lives. They have a legitimate beef with that Allen fellow, but that alone isn’t justification for planning a massacre of largely innocent people.”

Tsuna rubbed his face in contemplation. He had toyed with the idea of convincing their leader to use the launch key once found, to “divide”, but that would mean playing along long enough to get into their good graces as a Child of Atom, and he wasn’t about to do their little test. His family would likely flip out at the idea of him deliberately drinking highly irradiated water, for one thing.

“We can easily enough quietly remove them,” he said. “Right now their leader is geared toward getting those memories, expecting they will provide him with the means to carry out those plans. We get them first, obviously. And on a side note, when that holotape is ready, I suggest we grab it long enough to copy it onto a new holotape. That way Faraday will never know it’s been acquired.

“But as for the Nucleus… Let’s get the memories and find out just what’s in them. Then we sit down and discuss this. It may just be we use the usual tactics. Tag all of them, take them out quietly, no fuss, no fanfare. Then sweep through like a plague of locusts, scrapping everything to be recycled. If there’s even a remote chance that place could blow … well.”

His family all nodded.

Daemon smirked as he handed over a brand new holotape. “Darling.”

“Thank you, brother. How far into the command center did you get? Just the entrance, or…?”

Daemon kept right on smirking. “Oh, I got all the way to the end, using a window to bypass all the defenses. There’s a caged area at the back. You know, maglock doors, terminals, metal mesh walls protecting it all. We can step right in. There’s a suspicious door in there, though, with one of those warning lights above it. I suspect an Assaultron or Sentry Bot will pop out if the right trigger is tripped. At the center of the caged area is a series of consoles—well, just look.”

Daemon opened a large window on the area in question. At the center was a U-shaped series of consoles, with the very center showing a terminal. Above it was a peculiar thing, like a glass or plastic hemisphere with sticky-outy bits on it, and which Tsuna knew was an interface. Behind all that was a U-shaped caged area, with security doors at each narrow end. Trash and debris was everywhere, along with crates, toolboxes, ammunition cases, desks, and so forth.

“All right, let’s get in there. No doubt we will end up triggering that bot, so I want some of you prepared to blast it the second that door opens,” he said, then took Valentine’s arm.

The terminal did not have adequate power. At the very center back there, between banks of powered-down monitor/storage things seen at Acadia, was an auxiliary power switch that sparked, bringing attention to it despite the darkness.

“You ready?” he called.

“Yep!”

“Throwing this switch,” he said, then flipped it. As expected, not only did the monitors come on and show code or data streaming by, but the warning light above the switchbox activated, as well as the one over by the maglock door, which he could see through the mesh walls . An audible alarm began to sound, and then that door popped open and an Assaultron surged out.

It only had time to say, “Engaging!” before it was shredded, one of his family having decided to use Earth Flames to detach its arms, legs, and head from the torso before opening fire with more conventional weapons.

The central neural interface slowly dropped down to be more at head height. It glowed a bluish-purple. Honestly, it reminded Tsuna of that time he had installed a mod and the textures were missing, except it was transparent rather than opaque.

“Awesome,” he said. “Time to go memory diving.” He jacked in the copy of Faraday’s holotape and, after logging in, saw:

> #### Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink  
>    
>  ICE-Breaker Program Loaded...  
>    
>  Long-Term Memory Storage  
>    
>  [Memory 0V-9AX0]  
> [Memory 0J-2NN8 - LOCKED]  
> [Memory 0H-3X0P - LOCKED]  
> [Memory 0Z-7A4K - LOCKED]  
> [Memory 0Y-8K7D - LOCKED]

He chose the first one and felt the neural interface settle on his head, and was whisked away to a VR simulation. Glowing blue blocks were everywhere, each with gently-rounded corners and a distinctly 8-bit pattern on them. They were below, to the sides, and above him. He could see a large, red wall of blocks, though only the edges of each block were opaque. The interiors were clear. One block in particular was edged in black rather than red. There was a second red wall, perpendicular to the first, set a ways away.

A glowing green device was on one “wall” (ahead and to his left) and from it issued a glowing green tube of light. To his right, across a gap, was a column of amber light, rising upward. In front of him, on the “floor”, were five green … bugs. They were stymied by a gap in the floor, and could go no farther. In the distance he could see a red and black sphere floating around. There were others like it, in various locations.

A message was displayed to his sight, left side and centered vertically, which read: retrieve memory 0v-9ax0 (0%).

“If you are listening to this, then you made it inside my memory banks. Take a moment, I know it’s a lot at once.” It was DiMA’s voice. Much larger blue blocks rose and fell in the gap between his position and the upward-reaching column of light.

“The architecture you’re seeing is data. My data. When I’m plugged into the chair, this is what I see. You’re using an earlier version of that technology, a brainwave scanner instead of a direct neural wire. Look around. Do you see that yellow column in the distance?”

“It’s more orange than yellow,” he muttered.

“That’s long-term memory storage; that’s your goal. But you can’t just retrieve that data yourself. One of the programs loaded in that holotape is called the Indexers. They’re represented by the friendly green sprites milling around. Do you see them? The Indexers have one purpose—to get the data in the yellow column and bring it back to the memory access point.”

That would be the blue column of light Tsuna had arrived in.

“You need to help them get there and back safely. Once they’ve recovered all the data in the memory, the program will translate it into something you can understand. If you ever need to leave the simulation, then don’t worry. Nothing gets reset. You can keep going from wherever you left off.

“First things first. The blue blocks you’re standing on are called code blocks. Some of them can be repurposed. See if you can grab one of the lighter coloured blocks. Use them to fill in any gaps along the path for your Indexers to cross.”

He sighed and did so, filling in several gaps to where that horizontal green beam was. The beam itself was blocked by another of the lighter blue code blocks, and the obvious solution was obvious.

“Good. You’re across the gap. But now you have to deal with the security systems. That red firewall is blocking you and your Indexers from reaching the data. Do you see that green beam of light? That’s a decoder beam; it can destroy the firewall. You just need to direct the beam to its vulnerable spot.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the block, moving it aside. The green beam hit the black-edged cube in the firewall, causing the entire wall to slowly dissipate. He then used the block to fill in the gap ahead, so the Indexers could continue.

The beam extended all the way to the next corner area, and was diverted by another blue block—in the wrong direction, as the next firewall was to the right, whereas the beam was sent left. The obvious solution was again quite obvious, so he headed forward.

“Good. You’re across the gap. But now you have to deal with the security systems. That red firewall is blocking you and your Indexers from reaching the data. Do you see that green beam of light? That’s a decoder beam; it can destroy the firewall. You just need to direct the beam to its vulnerable spot.”

“I really fucking hate this place,” he muttered. The redirection block had a green pyramid of sorts on the side, presumably to indicate which face of it an incoming beam would exit through. The center of the block, mostly clear, had a cube at the center with a pyramid at the top and bottom, which the beam passed through.

Tsuna picked it up, turned it twice, and set it back down. The beam was redirected at the vulnerable spot, which caused the firewall to vanish. 

“Good. Now you just need to create a path to the data with code blocks, and your Indexers can get to work.”

“Because I couldn’t fucking see that for myself,” he groused, then grabbed nearby blocks to fill in the final gap. The Indexers scurried across and entered the column of light, paused, and started the journey back.

“The system has been alerted to your presence. Now things will get hairier.”

Indeed, the red and black spheres were lancing the sprites with red lasers, rendering them inoperable.

“You’ll need to deploy defense constructs against the system’s active countermeasures. The system’s sentries will do everything they can to stop your Indexers from returning to the access point with the data.”

Tsuna was able to place bubble turrets at that point, which happily enough shot down the sentries. He placed two at each corner of the U-shaped path, and one at the center. Even when an Indexer was disabled and flickered out of existence, a new one was deployed from the origin, but with the turrets in place, they could more easily get to the data, retrieve a portion of it, and deliver it.

“First data block recovered. Good. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Sentry initiating erasure of intrusive Indexer,” a female voice announced, rather belatedly in Tsuna’s opinion.

He continued to shift blocks around to make the paths easier for the Indexers to navigate, as there was precious little else he could do at that point.

“Intrusive Indexer detected. Beginning attrition of intrusive program.”

Then he ran out of blocks he could shuffle around and simply waited by the access point.

“Unauthorized Indexer erased.”

The status visible to his vision kept incrementing the percentage as the Indexers managed to bring more data blocks back, but it was a slow process, as just as many Indexers were destroyed as were able to make it back. Tsuna was a bit miffed he was limited by the system to a mere five turrets deployed.

It was incredibly frustrating to have no agency, to sit there and wait, bored out of his mind, while Indexers scuttled, were destroyed, or paused as if confused, only eventually making it back. When the final block was delivered he heard, “Verifying memory file. One hundred percent. We’re done here. We now have an access point into the next memory. Just step in the data stream where this memory was stored.”

The previously “yellow” column was now a match in colour to his origin point.

> “Memory file identification: 0V-9AX0, converted to audio transcription. Beginning playback,” announced a female voice.
> 
> “Things are not going well with Far Harbor,” DiMA could be heard saying. “Several of my people have been assaulted, spat at, interrogated for no reason. This is getting out of control, but there’s still a chance they can learn to trust us. We just need one of their own who’s on our side. I can’t let anyone know what I’m about to do. I’ll need to set up the equipment far away from Acadia. It’ll double as a place to bury the evidence.”
> 
> “Additional location data appended. A make-shift medical facility underneath the Vim! Pop Factory. Coordinates downloaded.”

Tsuna moved onto the next memory, then the next, then the next, then the final, then exited the simulation. The terminal had created holotapes of each memory, so he could play them back for the benefit of his family, as they would not have been able to hear them as he had.

“Hey, when you were in DiMA’s memories, did you find anything?” Valentine asked. “Any proof about what really happened between us?”

“Yes,” he said, “but let’s listen to what I’ve retrieved. There are five memories.”

“Well, all right, then.”

He played the first audio transcription and was pleased that his family immediately cottoned on to the implications.

“So at least one person in Far Harbor is an unknowing synth,” Hayato said, “a replacement of a human.”

“DiMA did the exact same fucking thing the Institute was doing?” Ken said. “Hello? Hypocrisy or what? All that talk about the distastefulness of memwipes was just talk?”

“And we need to find this medical facility he hid away,” Sin said.

“Next,” he said when it seemed like there would be no more commentary.

> “Memory file identification: 0J-2NN8, converted to audio transcription. Beginning playback.”
> 
> “I’m offloading this memory. I cannot bear lying to Confessor Martin and his Children of Atom any longer. Better to just forget. I found it. The location of the launch key to fire the nuclear missile inside the submarine. Confessor Martin believes it can bring his people into Division. Destruction at the hands of an atomic blast. He struggles with how literal his interpretation of that precept should be. I can’t risk him deciding to find the key and use it. His people were the first to … accept me for what I am. The thought of them being gone fills me with nothing but pain.”
> 
> “Additional data appended. Location: The Harbor Grand Hotel Safe Room. Keycode: 485130.”

“Selfish much?” Ken muttered.

“We are not using that launch key,” Xeul said.

“No, we’re not,” he replied. “If we do remove their threat, it won’t be by blowing this place sky high and spewing yet more waste into the air.”

Valentine had taken to slowly shaking his head, as if in utter disbelief and disappointment.

“Okay, moving on.”

> “Memory file identification: 0H-3X0P, converted to audio transcription. Beginning playback.”
> 
> “I’ve made a contingency plan in case Far Harbor discovers the truth, or gives in to their xenophobia despite all my efforts. I’ve isolated the wind turbines powering Far Harbor’s fog condensers. A kill switch command will leave them defenseless from the Fog and its creatures. But now that it’s done, am I really capable of this? This … massacre, that I’ve engineered… I’m going to remove the command code from my memories. I’ll bury a hardcopy if I need to use it, but I can’t keep it close to me. It makes me sick…”
> 
> “Additional location data appended. Coordinates to the Kill Switch Command Code and the Wind Farm Maintenance Building.”

“Words fail me,” Chikusa whispered.

“This is someone who displays all the negative traits of a human being, but can’t bear to remember it,” Daemon said. “So he cuts portions of his own memories out, hides them, hides the evidence, and continues on his saintly way? He is willing, even if he doesn’t remember it, to wipe out Far Harbor if they don’t behave for him? And yet he blinds himself to the behavior of the Children, out of sentiment. He’s so biased in such a contradictory way it makes my head hurt.”

Valentine had hunched in on himself slightly.

When no one else seemed inclined to comment he moved on to the next memory.

> “Memory file identification: 0Z-7A4K, converted to audio transcription. Beginning playback.”
> 
> “Get away from me! What the hell are you?” said Valentine’s voice, which caused Valentine’s head to snap up.
> 
> “It’s me! We escaped the Institute together. You’re my brother!”
> 
> “I don’t have a brother! The name’s Nick Valentine, and no one in my family tree is a plastic-skinned freak!”
> 
> “You’re just confused, let me help—”
> 
> The sounds of a struggle could be heard.
> 
> “Stay away from me!”
> 
> And more struggling.
> 
> “I don’t want to hurt you!”
> 
> And yet more struggling. Then, the sound of someone breathing heavily, which honestly made no sense, as they were listening to two Gen-2.5 synths who technically did not need to breath to begin with. “Good-bye … brother…”
> 
> “End playback.”

“So DiMA really did help me escape the Institute?” Valentine said. “I wasn’t just tossed out by them with the garbage. But why can’t I remember any of this!?”

“Valentine,” he said, “people forget things. You know this. We all forget things. Especially after a traumatic experience, such as the one we just heard. You said yourself you woke up in a trash heap not knowing why you were there, how you got there, with memories that didn’t match the body you inhabited. Clearly, whatever method he used to knock you out caused a few memories to get deleted.”

“I suppose he offloaded the memory because it was another thing he couldn’t bear to remember,” Sin said. “That he was driven to do you harm, someone he considered a brother. That he felt he had to abandon you. He couldn’t face up to it. Odd that he seemingly isn’t aware of the gap, though, between escaping and what came after, incurious as to why or how you two got separated.”

“I… I can’t even begin to know how to feel about this,” Valentine said. “In a way, he is my brother, as prototypes. He did get us out of there, but… All this, these memories. He’s not a nice person. He’s a manipulator, a liar, a murderer, and a hypocrite. And not in a good way.”

Tsuna smiled briefly. After all, Samsara was all those things at times. “I think,” he said carefully, “that it’s possible to appreciate the good he’s done for you, to be grateful, and even acknowledge the form of kinship, but not feel forced or obligated to simply accept everything else. You can love someone and still be angry with them, disappointed. To me it seems as if DiMA is just as much human as the rest of us, but instead of facing his thoughts and actions, he hides from them, pretends none of it happened, that he didn’t think those things. He’s lying to himself as much as he does to others.”

“Got any anecdotal evidence, have you?” Valentine’s voice was a bit more gravelly then usual, and almost sarcastic in inflection.

“I do, I suppose. My own mother and father,” he said. “They gave me life. I’m grateful for that life, that I exist. But those two? I loathe them, for so many reasons. I wouldn’t bat an eyelash if they were to be murdered right in front of me. I have yet to run across versions of my parents I would want to claim as family, they’re just that loathsome.”

That seemed to startle Valentine out of his funk a bit. “Seriously?”

“Very seriously. I want as little to do with them as possible. When I’m forced to interact, well… There’s a reason I became such a good actor over time. I would project some memories, but unless you understand Japanese…”

Valentine shook his head.

“My mother was more neglectful than outright abusive. She was oblivious to anything she didn’t want to see. She failed to see all those times I would come home in those earlier lives, black eyes, busted lip, bruised all over. I was just … clumsy, see?

“My father? I was supposed to be his clone, his carbon copy, with no independent thought. Or I was supposed to be his cute and adorable little tuna fish, helpless and rather stupid. And goodness no, his family should never ever find out that he was in the mafia. Because all those assassins who came after me were clearly a figment of my overactive imagination, and the blood was just red paint.

“I am grateful for being given life, appreciative of that and of being provided the basic necessities of food, shelter, clothing, and an education. Those two are my blood—usually, as I’m not always born to that line—but they are not family.”

Valentine shook his head again, but he seemed … lighter, almost. “You said five memories?”

He nodded. “The last one is… Well, I suppose I can see why he offloaded it, but there’s nothing really peculiar about it.” He jacked the holotape in and hit play.

> “Memory file identification: 0Y-8K7D, converted to audio transcription. Beginning playback.”
> 
> “I’ve discovered a curious record inside the pre-war data files of this submarine base. The marines here were equipped with an advanced model of combat armor. There are several suits already in the base, in various states of deterioration. But there were more shipments of armor on its way to the base, the day the bombs fell. They could be in prime condition if the sealants have held. I have no use for them, but you never know. Maybe they’ll be worth digging up one day.”
> 
> “Additional data appended. ‘Armor shipments tracking information.’ Coordinates downloaded.”

“And that’s all of them,” he said. “So… Let’s discuss how we’re going to react.”


	19. λ34: 19: Far Harbor, Commonwealth, Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ebook copies: [[.azw3](http://ff.grazhir.com/samsara5/Samsara_%20Cities%20in%20Dust%20-%20Shivani.azw3)] [[.epub](http://ff.grazhir.com/samsara5/Samsara_%20Cities%20in%20Dust%20-%20Shivani.epub)] [[.mobi](http://ff.grazhir.com/samsara5/Samsara_%20Cities%20in%20Dust%20-%20Shivani.mobi)]

## λ34  
19: Far Harbor, Commonwealth, Unknown  
“There’s nothing worse than a boring death.”

“We need to head the Vim factory,” Daemon said.

“I think we _should_ get the launch key and the code,” Ken said, “if only to ensure they can be removed from play or destroyed. Though admittedly, the launch key won’t matter if we remove the defects and scrap the submarine base.”

“Three teams of three,” Chikusa said. “Heul, Sin, and Valentine. The Kokuyo trio. Then Daemon, Xeul, and Hayato. Each to one of those three.”

“Any objections?” he asked and, when there were none, said, “Then my group will take the Vim factory. We can keep windows on each other, just in case.”

A quick round of jan-ken saw the Kokuyo trio slated for the launch key, which meant Daemon’s group would go after the wind farm code.

“I suggest we scrap this command center now, rather than waiting,” Sin said. “We can finish the job later, but I don’t think we want Chase being proactive and sneaking in, or the Children of Atom getting this far. Now that those memories are unlocked, any of them could listen to them via that terminal.”

Tsuna nodded. He shifted in some battery operated lights, then headed to the back to throw that switch and cut power to the machines. “Let’s get to work, my darlings.”

The kill switch was on an unmarked island off the west coast of the main island, and it was little real trouble for Daemon’s group to obtain it, the usual hostiles along the way notwithstanding. The Harbor Grand Hotel was infested with super mutants, but also not much of an issue with two powerful Mists and a Storm, all capable of using Earth Flames on top of that. A jaunt over to Fringe Cove Docks was next for them and, after a short pause to kill off the resident anglers and mirelurks, to unlock a safe located in a boat submerged below the surface using the combination obtained from the safe room to get the nuclear launch key.

Tsuna’s trio went to the Vim! Pop Factory and were confronted with quite a few super mutants to take out, both outside and inside. Once the first area was cleared they entered the factory itself, a lobby and office side of things. There were still-functioning terminals here and there, but he ignored them. Vague recollections about taste testing were not a good enough reason to waste the time it would take to check them all, despite the curiosity of the “fishy” taste of the Captain’s Blend.

The factory portion of the property was likewise infested with super mutants and their hulky dogs, and on the lowest level of the place, beyond some mole rats (the level of water in that room prompted Valentine to say, “Time for the latest round of: ‘Are Nick’s sealants still working?’ ”), past massive vats, was a maglock door and a terminal, which they hacked in order to get the thing open.

It protected a lift, which took them to DiMA’s secret facility (which looked more like an employee break area) of concrete walls, columns, brain fungi, nuclear waste, and—

“Signs of life detected. Scanning… If you need assistance, please approach the intercom.”

—a square room with a number of consoles, the aforementioned intercom, and a window into another room, with a maglock door to the right. He ignored that for the moment and focused on a section of the floor in the next “room” over, where the concrete had been cracked and removed, revealing bare earth. His quest marker pointed at it, so he grabbed a nearby shovel and began to dig, with Sin grabbing another so he could help.

A coffin was revealed.

Inside was a skeleton, a silver locket, and a holotape. He grabbed the locket, the holotape, and the skull (because the quest marker refused to move unless he did).

> “Is it… Is it going to be painful?” an unknown woman’s voice asked when he jacked the holotape into his Pip-Boy.
> 
> “Yes,” said DiMA. “It’s going to be like having everything you are ripped out and replaced with something else. Someone else.”
> 
> “I’m ready. I just… I wish I could say good-bye to everyone.”
> 
> “No one else can know,” DiMA said. “This isn’t just about infiltrating Far Harbor. It’s about becoming the human that synths drawn here need to meet. Reasonable, willing to accept them as just another living thing. No greater or lesser than humanity itself. You’ll be the bridge between our two worlds. That all vanishes the moment anyone discovers that it’s been manufactured. That you’re a synth.”
> 
> “Did she have to die? This … woman I’m replacing? God … she looks so peaceful lying there.”
> 
> “Don’t. Please. Avery’s blood is on my hands. Not yours.”

Valentine was shaking his head again. “He did the exact same thing the Institute kept doing. It’s one thing to have it heavily implied, but this… There’s no mistaking this.”

He sighed, partly due to DiMA’s actions, but just as much for Valentine’s disillusionment with DiMA. Back in the console room he activated the intercom.

“Scanning. Approved user detected. Synth prototype. Unlocking medical area door.”

“What? This thing knows what I am?” Valentine said. “How? Just who are you?”

“I am KYE 1.1, a computer intelligence designed to control medical facilities. Specifically, the room through that door. You match all specifications for an approved user. Personally speaking, they were very narrow.”

“This must be DiMA’s handiwork. Guess he never thought another prototype synth would be on the island,” Valentine said. “Might as well grab anything useful we find in there.”

The medical area had gurneys, racks to hold saline or other drips, microscopes, light boxes, various medical instruments, tanks of anesthetic… A desk with a broken terminal, more consoles—presumably where DiMA had altered the features of the synth who was to take Avery’s place, and replace her existence with that of a dead woman.

There was also a unique weapon back there, but it got shifted to the appropriate section of storage. Once they were done looting they shifted to the decontamination room outside the house in Storage, went through the sprayer, then entered the house so they could get showers, Valentine excepted.

They met up with the others in the kitchen, where Tsuna produced a quick meal of BLTs and crisps to munch on.

“So, put the code and key into the usual storage?” Daemon asked as he fussily selected out just the perfect crisp from his plate.

“Yes. Let’s go over our options for the Children of Atom. One, we could remove them as defects for their plans to wipe out Acadia and Far Harbor. Two, we could leave things alone and hope it shakes out okay. Three, we convince their leader to use the launch key and … divide … rather than worry themselves with Earthly concerns. Four, we mess with their heads.

“Five, we create wards around Acadia, Far Harbor, and the settlements, so that the Children couldn’t get close enough to easily kill them all, assuming they weren’t shredded by the turrets. And related but not directly so, create backup power for all those fog condensers at each settlement and wire them in so that even if the Children bombed the wind farm they would not lose that protection.”

“Seven,” said Hayato, “convince them to ‘divide’, but use illusion to fake it happening, so we aren’t pumping more radiation into the air, then remove them painlessly. That sorta respects their, uh, religion, but isn’t causing more harm to the rest of the island.”

“Eight, ‘borrow’ a fog condenser from Acadia long enough for Verde to craft a fabrication plan, then quietly put it back. That way the people of the island would still have access to them and replacement parts even if things went wrong between them and Acadia,” said Chikusa.

“Nine, more or less number seven, but with winnowing through their minds first to find the more moderate of the bunch, and dropping them off with the Children in the Glowing Sea, but removing the zealots,” Sin said. “Though I could see a potential issue if those we relocated tried to return to the Nucleus. And, now that I think about it, some of the ones in the Glowing Sea tried to set off more bombs. Dios mio, the idea is looking worse by the second.”

Tsuna shifted a whiteboard into the kitchen so he could jot down all the ideas by number while he munched on his sandwich. Had it just been Samsara? They’d have wasted the defects without a second thought, scrapped the place down the the bedrock, and moved on. But he felt the whole situation was delicate given DiMA’s “relationship” with Valentine and DiMA’s hypocrisy. He would prefer that Valentine would be on board with whatever decision was reached.

Valentine, in the end, preferred options eight and nine and the related, for the truly dangerous to be removed, and the remainder dropped off with the more moderate group in the Glowing Sea.

With that having been decided, it was time to figure out the power supply for each of those settlements, strictly for the fog condensers, as well as acquiring one of them from Acadia long enough to get fabrication plans for them. It would help if they knew the things well enough to attach the secondary power lines to them.

That they would have to figure out how to arrange for new fog condensers and parts to be available to Far Harbor and other settlements should Acadia ever back out of their agreement was something else entirely.

Tsuna couldn’t necessarily see them spending yet more time on the island beyond the pressing concerns of the present, clearing more areas for people to settle. But finding a non-suspicious way for those same people to help themselves… Either his wily and twisty Mists could come up with something, or various people in the famiglie. Because really? Tsuna was no dummy, but his machinations tended to be a bit more straightforward and less mind-bending Mist fuckery.

A fog condenser was located, acquired, and dropped off at Verde’s lab complex, with a note requesting a fabrication plan be made, as well as the question of whether or not the things could also be used to gather and make liquid normal radiation swirling around during radiation storms. And if Verde wasn’t interested, that he please leave a note for Tsuna to see when he next checked in, so he could return the thing to its owners.

The Children would wait until after things with DiMA had been resolved, if only so he did not get wind of their interference and react contrary to Tsuna’s expectations as based on the game.

“You’re back. So, what did you find? Can we really trust DiMA, or is he hiding something?”

“We found DiMA’s memories. He murdered and replaced someone in Far Harbor. Then he covered it up, even hiding the knowledge of it from himself.”

“Damn it. I was hoping I was wrong. But I just knew there was something… Do you know why he did it?”

“Because of uneasy relations and unrest between Acadia and Far Harbor. He created a bridge between the two, controlling the situation from the shadows.”

“So he means the best? Should we … help him? Is Acadia worth saving? There’s good people … synths … here.”

“Acadia is still an ideal worth protecting. But that isn’t to say we can simply overlook that DiMA murdered someone in cold blood and had her replaced, just like the Institute did so many times. He might have the best of intentions, but his actions tell a contradictory story.”

Kasumi nodded. “You’re right. We have to see this through. Maybe you can use what you’ve found in DiMA’s memories, convince the old synth to do what’s right? I know you’ve been doing all the hard work. I’ve been making a few things. Take them.”

Tsuna was handed a trio each of stimpacks and RadAway.

“Maybe they’ll help? Come talk to me when this is all over, okay? And good luck.”

“Yes?” DiMA asked, not looking away from the scrolling text his eyes were aimed at.

“I found something very … illuminating, DiMA,” he said, holding up two holotapes. “These are copies, by the way. I happened to stumble over some memories of yours, hidden away, and they led me to a gravesite. One Captain Avery, in fact. You killed her and replaced her with a synth, so you could exert control over Far Harbor.”

“What? That’s impossible. Let me see what you found,” DiMA practically demanded, holding out hand for them.

Tsuna obligingly gave them over and watched as DiMA took in the information. One hand came up to touch his forehead, then his head tipped back. “I… I did it. I killed a woman from Far Harbor and replaced her. I stripped a synth’s identity from her and made her an agent.”

“Why do it?”

“I needed to calm Far Harbor. A moderate voice. An example of what humanity should be. How we could exist together as equals. But I couldn’t live with the memories of the blood on my hands. A human and a synth are gone because of me.”

His eyes narrowed on hearing it for real. “And how would you plan to proceed from here, knowing that?”

“You’re right. We have to focus on what has to be done now.”

Which was not quite how Tsuna had meant the question.

“Is that what you call justice?” Valentine said. “Because I sure don’t.”

He cast a look at Valentine that said, “Trust me here. Please.”

“I’m … starting to see things more clearly. We have to keep this a secret from Far Harbor,” DiMA said. “If they knew I had done this, they wouldn’t just destroy me. They’d come after Acadia. And then without us, the fog condensers will eventually fall into disrepair. Everyone will die. I … have an idea. There’s still a way we can bring peace. But the fact that I’ve replaced a human with a synth must remain hidden.”

“So you did all that on your own?” he said. “No one else in Acadia was a party to that decision?”

“What I’ve done goes against all of our ideals. I even hid it from myself. So, no, there can’t be anyone else.”

“I see. Then, make your case to the people of Far Harbor, DiMA. Let them decide.”

“And if their judgment is to destroy Acadia? The synths I’ve gathered here are innocent. I’m responsible for them being here.”

“They are innocent. But you said you wanted human and synth kind to be equal. Now you have to prove you mean what you say. Tell them the truth. Trust that they’ll do the right thing. Because right now, the way I see it, by deciding for them, you set yourself up as being above them. That’s not equality.”

“You’re … you’re right. I … we … can’t be above any other living being. When something terrible is done, there have to be repercussions. I’ll go. The people of Far Harbor will have to decide what to do with me. And I will have to hope Acadia will be spared.”

Faraday came racing in—he had clearly been listening in from his workshop—with objections tumbling from his lips.

“My dear Faraday… You know there is no other option.”

“DiMA, there are always options. Don’t do this. Don’t … don’t leave.”

“If atoning for my actions can keep you safe, well… I care for you all too much to do anything else.”

“DiMA, please…”

“Be strong, Faraday. It will be all right.” DiMA headed off toward the exit, so Samsara and Valentine followed in his wake.

“I’m gambling the lives on my people that your trust in Far Harbor is not misplaced,” DiMA said quietly just before he exited the building.

Most of Samsara shot Tsuna a look, to indicate that they understood what all those favors done really meant.

DiMA was kind enough to wait for them all to assemble down in Far Harbor before he started (or perhaps he took some form of courage to see Valentine there, or Tsuna, or both). It was appropriately solemn, with mist and fog darkening the sky and casting a somber light over the settlement. DiMA must not have often been seen in Far Harbor, at least not of late, as a number of the residents were gawking while trying not to look like they were gawking. To be fair, seeing a badly damaged and heavily modified Gen-2 synth with glass tubes sticking out of him was not an everyday sight.

“My long walk is over.”

“What’s this about?” Avery said warily.

“People of Far Harbor. You know me. We have lived peacefully together for years. We have come to trust each other, in our way. But I’ve betrayed that trust, and I’ve kept the truth from all of you. Early on during Acadia’s founding, I murdered one of your own. I replaced them with one of mine.”

Kudos for having the balls to say “murdered” and not “killed”, Sin wrote.

“What!? Who?” Avery demanded.

“The identity of my … agent, must remain hidden. They are as much a victim in this as anyone. They will do you no further harm. I am the only one to blame.” For some reason, DiMA looked to Tsuna for some kind of response.

He nodded encouragingly. “Continue, please, DiMA.”

“I wanted to prove that humanity and synth could co-exist. That we did not have to fear each other. But I went too far. I see that now. I only ask that you judge me, and not what we’ve built together. Allow the peace between Acadia and Far Harbor to last beyond this.”

“Peace?” Allen, of course. “You call murdering one of ours ‘peace’? I say we end this bastard and then burn his whole god damn Acadia to the ground!”

“Allen,” Avery said sharply. “Enough. DiMA will pay for his crime. But not Acadia. This path you want leads to murder. Cold-blooded murder.”

“We leave them be and we’ll never know if they’re killing and replacing us one by one,” Allen snarled back. “No, we kill every last one of them, just to be sure! Who’s with me?”

Tsuna’s brow went up. “Acadia is blameless. You have your criminal here, self-confessed. Judge him and him alone.”

“You’re not… Even… You… God damn it.”

“Careful,” Valentine said quietly. “This could get out of hand real fast.”

“Don’t listen to the mainlander. My brother knows what we got to do!” said a brunette woman.

“See the Hull?” Mariner said. “That’s thanks to the mainlander. A true friend of the Harbor.”

“You going to listen to Allen’s hate-mongerin’? You even remember who did the Captain’s Dance?” the doctor chimed in.

Dalton was next. “Mainlander cleared my farm. Avenged my family! More than the rest of you ever did for me.”

“What’s Allen really ever done?” Small Bertha asked. “Cause trouble. Remember who cleared the lumber mill. Remember who’s given us a new chance to take back our island.”

“I owe my very life to the stranger,” Andre said. “We should listen now.”

Mitch was next with a slightly slurred, “My uncle’s safe and alive. The stranger’s always steered us right.”

Allen hunched his shoulders for a moment. “Enough. I’ll … back down.”

“The Harbor’s spoken,” Avery said. “So this ends here. DiMA. Murder’s a serious crime. There’s only the one punishment for it.”

Then why isn’t Allen dead for killing preacher man, or been turned over to the Children? At least we know Avery would see him hang if given the chance.

“If you have any last words… Now’s the time.”

“I’m … sorry,” DiMA said, then he knelt.

“Mitch,” Avery prompted.

The barman pulled out a gun, aimed, and fired. DiMA collapsed backward.

“Every homestead, town, and people has a dark side,” Avery said. “But if we’re ever to know peace—we don’t let the worst of us define us. So justice has been done. And I expect everyone to respect the peace between us and Acadia.” She gave a sharp nod, then headed for her office-house, which caused everyone else to break away to their usual places.

“So… DiMA is dead,” Valentine said. His tone was edged with bitterness.

“I could accept the blame,” he said. “I was the one to convince him to confess.”

“No… No, because as much as it hurts, as close to home as this feels, DiMA was the one to put the first foot wrong. More than one. He was the one who played fast and loose with people’s lives. The way he was talking, I expect next he’d have gone after…”

“Yeah. I expect so.”

“Let’s just hit the road, all right?” Valentine said with a sigh. “I don’t think I can talk about this anymore. We need to finish things up with Kasumi Nakano.”

He nodded. “Let’s go see the young woman we were hired to find.”

“DiMA’s gone. You found out the truth, and now he’s paid for it. We … did the right thing. Didn’t we?”

Tsuna turned it back on her. “What do you think? Did we?”

“I don’t know. All that’s happened… I feel like everything’s so much more complicated than I could have imagined. Hey, listen. So when you first showed up, you came to get me. To bring me home. I’ve been thinking a lot about that… I hurt Kenji and Rei by leaving, didn’t I. I could’ve just stayed home, pretended everything was all right, but I left them. Should I go back? They obviously still care about me … or who they think I am. They need a daughter. They deserve to have one. Everything in Acadia’s been … settled. I found my answers. Maybe it’s time I did something for someone else.”

“You did hurt them. You should go back. But that’s my opinion, and no one can make this decision but you. If you feel in your heart you should go back, then that’s the correct decision.”

“…I will. I’ll start gathering my supplies and I’ll have to say good-bye to everyone. Thanks. For everything. Maybe I’ll see you back in the Commonwealth?” 

“Since we don’t even know where the boat is you used, we can wait for you in Far Harbor and you can ride with us.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah, the boat. I can use that. I shouldn’t leave it behind.”

“Then bring it around to Far Harbor, if you would, so we can make the trip back together. Will you do that?”

Kasumi gave them a nod, then wandered off to (presumably) go do those things.

On the way down the road a few minutes later he said, “Much as I hate to get in between participants of family squabbles, I’m thinking that Nakano-san was a bit too smothering and just … wasn’t listening? Should we point that out to him?”

“Wrapping someone in cotton wool because you fear for them means they’ve a damn good chance to end up useless in real danger,” Sin said. “Kasumi is clearly more capable than Kenji believes. If he had taken her along on some of those trips to the city, things might not have gotten to this point.”

“They’re both at fault, but as the parent, Kenji more so,” Ken said. “He needs to learn to listen more, trust more, and Kasumi needs to learn more assertiveness. I’d say drop a hint, but don’t push?”

“It seems clear to me with how she speaks that she’s still expecting someone older to do some of her thinking for her, as she’s never truly been allowed that freedom, not when it comes to adulting, anyway,” Chikusa said.

“She felt alone, smothered, stifled, repressed, with no one on her intellectual level to talk to after her grandfather died,” Hayato said. “I can see how that’d make anyone a bit mental and rash. It’s too bad that Mercer is at Coastal Cottage. If it’d been a normal settlement… Well, there might not have been any geniuses there, but it would be a closer place they could go for supplies and additional company. Hell, a night out at a bar and a meal they didn’t have to cook themselves.”

Tsuna nodded. That had never occurred to him while playing the game, but it was a damn good point. There would have been people handling the supply line. The Nakanos could have negotiated for parts or supplies and been in less danger on long trips to acquire them, plus have had the occasional company of ten to twenty new people living nearby.

A quick shift once they got out of sight brought them to behind a building outside Far Harbor, but as they were walking toward the town itself, to their borrowed boat, a Miss Nanny floated toward them at a good clip, along the boardwalk from the west.

“Ah, there you are! Are you that detective I’ve heard about?” Its voice was female, as expected, and rather affected—high class snobby.

“Heard about? From who?”

“Mayor Avery said that someone new had arrived on the island, investigating a missing person. That must be you!”

“Seems word travels fast around here,” Valentine commented.

“I haven’t been able to find any of the local police force, the louts! I don’t want to start a panic, but well, we may have a murder on our hands and we need an outside set of eyes.”

“Where did the crime take place?” he asked.

“At the Cliff’s Edge Hotel, just north of town. Will you help us? There may still be a murderer at large.”

Tsuna felt like milking it for all it was worth; it wasn’t as if Kasumi would be two seconds behind them. So he asked, “Who was the victim?”

“Well, we want to keep this out of the tabloids, but it’s Ezra Parker, the financier of the hotel. Please, you must help us. Every moment we wait our residents are at risk.”

“Who are your employers?”

“I shouldn’t say out here in the open, but my employers are quite wealthy. As are the other patrons of the hotel.”

“One murder mystery, coming up. Yes, we’ll help you.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Shall I guide you to the Cliff’s Edge Hotel now?”

Tsuna shook his head. “There’s some business we must take care of first. We’ll be along the moment we can. Shall we meet you outside the hotel? I imagine it’s that big structure in the distance behind you.”

One of its eye stalks swiveled around. “Yes, that is the location. I shall await you at the front doors.” The Miss Nanny, who had yet to give a name (though Tsuna knew it to be Pearl), pivoted and floated off at a decent clip.

“Right.”

“Let’s go wait for Kasumi, then,” Daemon said. “And, incidentally, I have a window following that bot. We can just shift later.”

“Thank you, brother.”

“Mom… Dad… I’m… I’m home!” Kasumi called out as she opened the door to the Nakano home.

A startled cry of, “Kasumi!?” came from the kitchen, and then Kenji and Rei raced out.

“Oh my god,” Rei said, a hand up to her mouth. “My baby is okay!”

“Welcome back home, Kasumi,” Kenji said, hand to his heart.

“It’s good to be home.” Kasumi’s tone was a shade uncertain, but she sounded happy enough.

“You. You saved my daughter,” Kenji said. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Nakano-san.”

“You don’t often see kindness in the Commonwealth. I’ll never forget this.”

“If any of you ever need help again, you know where to find us,” Valentine said.

“Kasumi, does this mean… You know we’re your parents, right?” Rei said. “You’re not a synth.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry. I was just … so confused. I wanted to go … somewhere. Anywhere.”

“It’s okay, Kasumi. You’re home now.”

Tsuna bit his lip, then said. “That she is. But… Nakano-san, please, listen to your daughter next time. Don’t just try to keep her safe. Talk to her. Listen.”

“I know,” the man said, a bit shamefaced. “I will. I was holding on so tightly I almost lost her. There’s one last thing. Your reward for bringing my daughter home safely. We don’t have much to offer, but my father traveled the Commonwealth. He had quite a collection before he died. I buried it all near the house. I’m not the explorer he was. I don’t need them. I think they would be better with you.”

Tsuna shook his head. “No, you keep your father’s collection for your family. It might come in handy one day. I thank you for the sentiment.”

Kenji accepted that with a nod. “Perhaps we will need it someday. God knows plenty has happened to us already. Thank you. You saved my family. We won’t forget that.”

“See you around, Kenji,” Valentine said.

“Good-bye, Nick. Best of luck to you and your partner in the future.”

Tsuna quietly ducked out the door and stared out over the ocean. Valentine came up beside him and said, “In this line of work, you have to expect the unexpected. Still, I’ve got to admit, I’ve never had a case quite like Kasumi’s.”

“Really? Never?”

“Well, there was that one time I got hired by someone who’d been frozen in a vault for two hundred years. That one’s been a doozy so far. I’m glad things ended as well as they have. The Nakanos are a happy family again, as much as anyone around here can be, anyway. Let’s go talk to Ellie, eh?”

“Yeah. Much nicer to let her know in person, rather than a text message.”

“Well, look who’s back. How’d everything go with the Nakano case?”

“We tracked their daughter to a synth refuge up north near Far Harbor. She’s back home, safe and sound.”

“That’s great! We don’t often get to bring people good news. It’s a nice change of pace. Thanks for coming in for this one. I knew something good was happening when you and Nick started working together. Don’t be a stranger, gumshoe.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were giving our friend here all the credit,” Valentine complained playfully.

“Just keeping you on your toes, Nick.”

“We have another case to solve, then.”

Ellie’s brow went up. “Oh?”

“An odd one,” he said. “We were approached by a Miss Nanny, who works at the Cliff’s Edge Hotel, on the island. Someone was murdered. We wanted to make sure Kasumi got home safe first, but we should probably get back to that.”

The Cliff’s Edge Hotel was a giant half circle of sorts, with a ground floor and three levels above, though the top level only had enclosed areas at either end, with the center being more like a deck. Underground levels he could not remember, aside from at least one, not counting what he knew they were headed for. Ahead of it, on the non-cliff side, was a vault entrance much like Vault 111’s, with a burnt-out husk of a car on it and various metal crates.

If Tsuna recalled correctly, that entrance was not for human use. It was for the patrons’ vehicles, so they could be brought down and stored in a garage deep underground. The exterior of the hotel was littered with suitcases, piles of trash, more destroyed vehicles, a deep layer of decaying leaves, and plenty of brambles and vines.

“The hotel staff really needs to do something about the lobby,” Pearl said once they caught up with her. “I should warn you, some of the other hotel guests are a bit, hm, rowdy.”

Considering he could see a feral ghoul sprawled on the lobby floor through the wide, open front doors, he expected to see quite a few of them.

“I was forced to defend myself when a few became a bit … handsy, shall we say? I had not been in this part of the hotel for some time. Perhaps there is some sort of sporting event that has them agitated. Several of them tried to grab me and well … their clothing was certainly not suitable for polite company. But the registered patrons are in a more exclusive area of the hotel, and do not associate with this sort of rabble. Shall we be off?”

“Yes, lead on, please.”

“Very good. This way.” Pearl floated off inside the lobby and then left, to a wall with dual lifts. “Drat. The elevators seem to be out of order on this level. We’ll have to take the long way around.”

Directly to the left was a massive cave in. It went beautifully with the piles of trash, the other out-of-order lifts, grungy, water-damaged furniture, and ceiling plates fallen to the ground. Pearl’s route took them through a good part of the hotel, heading up one side and down the other, essentially, so they could get to a working lift (all so they could take on the side job of punishing the rowdy, the many normal, charred, and glowing feral ghouls).

“This elevator leads to the exclusive area of the hotel,” Pearl informed them as she hovered in front of yet another set. “You should feel quite privileged that they will be allowing you in.”

The level the lift opened out to was just ghastly, with wallpaper peeling off the walls, the usual piles of trash, with artwork and debris and papers strewn across the floor. The Employees Only room was designated for laundry, with an entire wall of stacked washers and dryers, plus shelving, sinks, an emergency shower, cleaning supplies, and employee lockers.

Double doors at the end of the short hallway opened to a rough cave with a remote access pedestal overlooking a vault door. There were two round tables up there, draped in fabric, with accompanying stuffed armchairs.

Ken moved to plug in his Pip-Boy and hit the Coupler Ignition button as Valentine said, “Well, well. This place just got a little more interesting.”

Instead of the vault door opening, however, they were addressed by a Mr Handy via the speaker. “Greetings! Welcome to Vault 118. Your home away from home, underground. Are you the detective we sent for?”

“Yes,” Ken said.

“Oh thank goodness. Let me just open the door for you,” they heard, and then saw the warning lights start their usual rotation and heard the normal sounds of a vault door being opened.

On the lower level were more of those draped round tables with cushy chairs, vases with no flowers, and ruined books.

The vault’s actual entrance sported a different layout than what they were used to. While the normal control pedestal was there, and the short stair down to where the door machinery was housed, behind that were two barred windows and hallways to either side. No rad scanners in sight. There was also a reception desk, something more normally found in a hotel rather than a vault.

“Well, it’s about time the police sent someone out to investigate,” the Mr Handy greeted them with. “We have many important residents and they are very worried.”

“What is the situation right now?” he asked as another Mr Handy floated their way.

“It’s Mr Parker, the primary owner and financier for the hotel. This is just a disaster!” Their greeter turned to face the new Mr Handy, and listened to whatever passed for a native language for the robots, a sci-fi sound of machine noises. (Tsuna was somewhat reminded of R2-D2 and the like, only less exuberant.)

“They’re at the crime scene again? Don’t they realize that they’re going to disturb the evidence? You’d better come with me, detective.”

They were led to the right and through a set of rad scanners (non-functional, given that he did not hear the noises he expected to hear), and into a T-shaped hallway with a fountain at the center.

Directly ahead, through a wide door, was the crime scene, as evidenced by the many robots he could see there. The hallway itself was of a curious make, with the usual vault pieces evident, but not enclosed at the top. Side pieces and floor pieces were used, but not ceilings, and it revealed the rock of the underlying excavation.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a 50s Leading Man voice said. “This is a crime scene!” (Tsuna was reminded of Sgt Bilko’s rival’s voice, though he could not remember the actor’s name offhand.)

“Do you not see it? The glory of the thing? The artistry?” A gritty, accented male voice.

The room itself was like a dining hall, with draped round tables (with silk flowers in vases) and a stage at the far end with two-storey velvet curtains, a microphone stand, and floor-mounted spotlights. There was an overseer’s window up above the stage, and below it one of those wall-mounted statues, of a woman holding a sphere in each hand. A balcony ran along three walls, with doors on both levels.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” said Leading-Man.

“Excuse me,” said their escort.

“Ezra,” said Gritty-Accent, “you’ve outdone yourself. Oh, this is your finest work! There is more emotion in his death than most have in their entire lives!”

“The fuck are there so many Robobrains?” Hayato said roughly.

Ah, yeah, he wrote in private mode. These people had an odd reaction to the impending end of the world scenario.

Protectrons were also scattered about the room, presumably as guards to the crime scene.

“Our friend is dead, Mr Avida!” Leading-Man admonished. “Have you no respect?” He had a lavender cravat.

“I’m just saying that at least he had the decency to make a spectacle of it. There’s nothing worse than a boring death,” Avida shot back. He was wearing a paint-stained smock over the front of his Robobrain body’s torso.

Most of Samsara turned amused glances on Tsuna, to which he huffed quietly.

“Please, if I may,” their escort tried again. “If I could just have your attention!”

“That’s what this is to you?” Leading-Man said. “You’re sick…”

“I’m sorry for shouting,” Escort said in an only slightly raised voice (because proper British gentlemen did not shout), “but the detective has arrived and shall begin the investigation henceforth. Please return to your rooms until the detective has examined the crime scene and had a chance to come speak with you.”

The two patrons pivoted away and rolled off as Escort said, “Have a look at the crime scene for clues and when you are ready we can discuss your findings. You are free to question the residents, but their safety is our priority, so unless you have solid evidence, I would avoid accusations.”

“I guess someone wasn’t a fan of Robobrains,” Valentine said, staring at the scene. “At least not this one.”

The deceased wore a striped blue tie, was tipped over on his back, and sported a shattered brain case, exposing the brain itself to open air. Next to the corpse was a patch of shiny red.

“No way that’s blood,” Sin said. “There shouldn’t be any blood involved.”

The “blood” trail led over to the back corner of the room, where a baseball bat lay on the floor in another “puddle” of the red substance. Tsuna shared a look with his family and Valentine.

Valentine shook his head. “Even if that was blood, there’s no way it could possibly drip off that bat the way we’re seeing. The bat itself doesn’t seem discoloured, and those splotches look far too much like someone slapped down some paint to create an obvious trail. No, someone went to a lot of trouble to plant misleading clues, to implicate other people. This so-called blood is too red, too shiny, for how long it took us to get here. It should have darkened or gone more brown. And I don’t think Robobrains even have blood.”

He nodded, picked up the murder weapon, and went to speak to Escort.

“Hello again, detective. How can I assist?”

“So how is it all your residents are Robobrains?”

“Back before the war, the residents decided the best way to wait it out was to put their brains inside robotic chassis.”

“What can you tell me about the victim?”

“Mr Ezra Parker was the primary owner and financier for the hotel. He had vast experience managing venture projects around the world. It was his idea to have our premier clients become investors in the vault section of the hotel. He worked with Vault-Tec to have this built to their every specification.”

“We found what appears to be the murder weapon. Do you recognize this?”

“Oh no. That’s the bat from Mr McKinney’s movie. You don’t think he could be involved do you? I can’t imagine him ever doing such a thing!”

“All right. Time to question the residents, then.”

“I’ll be here should you need me,” Escort said.

The cafeteria was a sad, sad place, with one of the non-human-language-speaking Mr Handys, a kitchen set up, and a single worktable. Presumably, just a kitchen with service to the adjacent dining room. Directly across from it was a sign for Overseer and a stair leading up, which Tsuna took. That led to the balcony that ringed three sides of the dining area, but also a door with an Overseer sign above it.

Sin handled the lock and they were through, around a corner and up another set of stairs, to another door, which opened to a combined office-living space, with an attached bedroom which had an en suite bathroom. The desk had a functioning terminal. Beside it was a skeleton garbed in a rotting Vault 118 suit.

The first entry, [Vault 118 Overseer Instructions], read:

> #### Vault 118 is designed to test the social interactions between the working class and ultrawealthy when under confined conditions. Working in conjunction with staff from the Cliff's Edge Hotel, this vault shall function as a luxury hotel to attract the necessary testing subjects. Upon beginning the test, additional subjects shall be admitted from the local population into a second, much inferior wing of the vault.

[Operations Protocol Manual] had three sub-entries, of which [Resident Admittance] read:

> #### Prior to experiment activation, Vault 118 shall function as an ultra elite hotel to attract test subjects of appropriate wealth and status. This shall be operated as a clandestine area of the hotel to ensure that individuals drawn to privilege and exclusivity are present.  
>    
>  Upon Activation Notice from Vault-Tec, the secondary wing of the vault shall be made open to the public and selected from the local working class population. These subjects are to be taken through the exclusive areas of the vault on entry, but thereafter confined to the cramped second wing.  
>    
>  Once residents have been admitted, the vault is to be sealed until test results can be determined.

[Preferential Treatment] read:

> #### Test Group A: Ultra Elite  
>    
>  This subject group, not to number more than 10, shall have their every desire tended to by robotic staff, to the extent that is possible. They are considered to be above all legal restrictions when interacting with Test Group B.  
>    
>  Test Group B: Working Class  
>    
>  This subject group, should begin numbering 300 and shall be restricted to the second wing of the vault. Measures should be taken to ensure that living conditions are uncomfortable and cramped. Food and other rations are to be extremely limited and any breach of rules are to be judged by Test Group A and enacted by robotic staff members.

[Staff Duties and Security] read:

> #### Due to the potential for extreme social interactions, Vault-Tec staff shall be restricted to the Overseer and key research members. All other security, services and maintenance positions shall be filled by robotic staff to ensure safety and test compliance.

[Overseer’s Log] had three sub-entries, as well. [Change of Testing Parameters] read:

> #### This is ... completely unheard of. One of the subjects from Testing Group A is apparently a researcher for General Atomics on some sort of advanced robotics program. He and his wife have convinced the other members of Group A that, with the international situation becoming tense once again, their best chance to outlast the war is to have their brains inserted into these robots.  
>    
>  And they're doing this voluntarily! It's absolutely insane! I've tried to convince my superiors that this will completely discount the test results, but they seemed more intrigued by the idea than appalled.

[The Door Wouldn’t Open] read:

> #### We received the Activation Notice from Vault-Tec to begin the test, despite the second wing still being incomplete. However, when I attempted to trigger the recruitment protocol for Test Group B, the system informed me that I had been locked out.  
>    
>  Someone from Test Group A seems to have overridden the system to prevent the admittance of the local population of the island. They've been pounding on the door for days and there is nothing I can do.

[I Can’t Take This] read:

> #### Oh god. It's been weeks now, and I realized today that I've become the test subject. Instead of testing the social interactions between the locals and this group of rich assholes, it's just me trapped in here with them. They're going to live forever, and I have to deal with them for the rest of my life.  
>    
>  I can't take it.

“That would explain the gun and the position of the skeleton,” Chikusa said mildly.

Tsuna ejected the holotape he could see and played it in his Pip-Boy.

> “Progress on construction of the second wing of the vault has completely stalled. Once the premiere area of the vault has been completed, funding seems to have been cut off. My supervisors have informed me that they haven’t received payments from Mr Parker, and Vault-Tec won’t pay out of pocket to continue construction.
> 
> “I’ve repeatedly approached Ezra about the finances, but he keeps telling me that Mrs Riggs hasn’t transferred the funds. However, when I asked her, Julianna said that she had just given Ezra extra for the gold paint in the rooms. I’ve hired an investigator to look for signs of embezzlement in the next few weeks.”

“So Parker was embezzling from his investors?” Xeul said. “That would certainly be a motive.”

More wandering took them through Hydroponics (a small, sad room with barely anything being grown, not that the residents needed food) and around to the other side of the balcony, where Avida could be heard talking.

“I haven’t felt this inspired since that time security spent all day chasing a molerat through the halls!”

The sound led them into a two-storey chamber housing consoles, a Vault-Tec generator, booze, paint splashes and cans of paint, and various pieces of artwork on the walls.

“Well. Well, well, well, well. If it isn’t the long arm of the law. Tell me, are you a devotee of the arts? Does that cruel muse call you to her entrapping bosom?”

“Art is life,” he said. “Without it we are no different from animals.”

“Perhaps. If all we are is a sequence floating in a suit of flesh, or metal I suppose, then art is the only true communion with the world. Come with me.” Avida rolled off to one of the works on the walls, a piece with a grey base, black daubs of paint in lines, and splashes of yellow, pink, and blue. And a lot of dirt, but he doubted that was part of the original creation.

“Tell me. What does this piece say to you?”

“I don’t like it,” he said. “There’s no discernible subject. It’s just random paint, and not even in an aesthetically pleasing arrangement.”

“Perhaps that is entirely the point. Like life, there is no subject, no reason. Just random stimulae that our minds try to spin into a cohesive story. This way!” Avida rolled off to a different work. “Tell me, what does this one say to you?”

“It’s like the war. Bombs from every direction—” For indeed it resembled many mushroom clouds, oriented up and down, with widening rings of force or debris moving outward. “—no up or down, the world turned on its head.”

“I suppose in a way it must be. Art shapes the world, and the world shapes art in return. All art must therefore be constantly reborn through the lens of contextual and historic interpretation. We must ascend!” Avida rolled up to the upper level and paused by another work.

It was interesting, Tsuna thought, that there were absolutely no cans of red paint that he could see. Just yellow and blue and green, nor were there any red splotches.

“And what about this one? And please be honest, for art without honesty is just politics.”

The painting in question was a grey tabby kitten wrapped around and biting a toy rocket. Tsuna rolled his eyes. “It’s cute, I guess, but any technical brilliance is lost in it’s kitschy subject matter. Some people like that kind of thing.”

“More than you would imagine! Truth be told, this is my best selling piece. I did the series under a pseudonym, of course,” Avida said as he rolled back down to the lower level. “This series has made me more money than any of my serious works, and I did the whole thing as a lark. What does that tell you about the value of art to the common man, hm?”

“A lot, really. But let’s talk about the recent murder. Have any thoughts on that?”

“The person you should be looking at is Julianna Riggs. That philistine wouldn’t know art from her own excrement. She and Ezra had a rather dramatic fight recently. You could hear her banshee screeches all the way across the hotel.”

“What were they arguing about?”

“I don’t know, I was painting at the time and was trying to block it out. Though I bet Gilda probably heard them. Maybe you should check with her.”

“And you? Tell me about yourself.”

“What is there to tell? I am one of the premier artists in the world. Santiago Avida! My work is primarily in oil paint, but I have been known to do sculpture or performance art, as well.”

He nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Good. I hope my paintings are able to open your mind to new possibilities.”

There was a classroom downstairs, filled with consoles, adult desks, a center counter such as in a lab, a chemistry station, and various other things commonly found in a laboratory, such as microscopes, test tubes, and flasks. But no occupants.

There was a star on one of the residential hallway doors, which led into a room with a sound mixing station, spotlights, a movie camera, and a small stage. On that stage were two residents.

“Why’d you do it?” a female voice said. “Huh? He deserved better than that.” The Robobrain the voice belonged to was wearing a straw hat, and the voice reminded him of an early starlet, like Mae West or something.

“You think I’m stupid?” Leading-Man retorted. “I saw the way he looked at you. You gonna tell me that’s nothin’?”

“It wasn’t like that, we were friends. He helped me out of a tight spot or two is all.”

“I couldn’t stand by like some pasty-faced Percy while he put the moves on my best girl.”

“But now the law is on our tail. What are we going to do?”

“Come away with me. Let’s leave this dark hole of a city behind. We can be in Buenos Aires by tomorrow.”

“Oh, I want to believe you, I do, but … they’ll never let us go.”

“Then we’ll make our stand here. I-I’ve got a gun for each of us.”

“No, no, no, no, no! The line is, ‘Then we’ll make our stand here. Two lovers, together, with a bullet for each of them.’ ”

Leading-Man huffed. “God. Why can’t I ever get that line. Forget it, I can’t do this right now.”

“Ugh, fine. I’m going to the beach.”

Straw-Hat rolled off in a huff, and Leading-Man (whom he presumed to be McKinney) rolled off the stage to address him. “Hello, detective. How can I help? Did you have questions about the case?”

“What are your thoughts on the murder?”

“It’s obviously Santiago. He keeps going back to look at the crime scene.”

Except that’s far too cliché. The culprit always returns to the scene of the crime!

“I found a baseball bat at the scene, one purported to be from a movie. A prop, I suppose? Can you explain how it got there?”

“Someone is clearly trying to frame me for the murder. It’s probably Santiago, you saw him skulking around the crime scene.”

And so were you, pal.

“What were you talking about when I walked in? A rehearsal?”

“Yes, rehearsing a scene. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right. Thank you for you cooperation.”

“Of course, detective. Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with.”

The rehearsal room had two rooms off it, both bedrooms with en suites, though one was clearly more masculine if the weights scattered about meant anything.

A bit down the hall, at a door flanked by bronze lions, was a museum of sorts, and ultimately uninteresting. It did have an attached bedroom with en suite, and by the contents was most likely Parker’s suite.

One of the residential suites had rad scanners just outside the door, which was odd. Just inside the door were two active decontamination arches, and a veritable maze of furniture. Two Robobrains were positioned in front of a fireplace (which had a number of urns on it and on the attached shelving), and a cat languished atop a stack of cardboard boxes.

“Hello, Mr Whiskers,” a woman’s voice said. “Who’s a pretty kitty?”

“Julianna… Mr Whiskers died last month. This is Scruffy, remember?” said her companion and presumable husband. The presumable husband sounded like an absent-minded scientist, so perhaps the classroom was his usual location.

“Oh… Of course. Silly me.” The way she said it was telling.

“Just let me have a look at the neural interface matrix and I’m sure I can clear that—”

“No! No it’s not that, I’ve just caught another cold. Probably something that got in when they sent Pearl out.”

Methinks the lady doth protest too much, Daemon wrote. And that she’s a bad actor, doesn’t respond well on the quick thinking front.

“Oh god, not this again. Last month you were convinced you had the measles.”

“You’re not a doctor, what would you even know about it. And besides, I think it may be malaria.”

“First of all, I am a doctor.”

“Yes, but not a real doctor. Robotics isn’t an actual medical degree.”

“I think they’re gonna have to forfeit their deposit,” Valentine said sotto voce.

“Secondly,” Absentminded-Scientist said, “I’ve told you time and again, you can’t get sick inside that suit. It’s not physically possible.”

“I know when I’m getting sick, Bert. Now why don’t you just wander off and play in your lab. Mr Scruffy and I are going to rewrite the will, so he will get everything when I die because horrible Bert didn’t believe me.”

So Julianna and Bert Riggs?

There were at least seven urns at the fireplace. Which … made little sense, not if these people had been present in the vault since the time of the war. There had to be more urns elsewhere, or they had a super secret area in the vault that held a whole lot of cats in cryo, to be thawed out when the most recent one kicked it from old age.

“Oh god, Julianna. Whatever. I’m going to the lab.”

“Have fun, dear!”

“Hello, detective. Did you have a question about the heinous murder?” Julianna had on a medical mask, positioned just below the brain case rim.

“I’m curious as to your thoughts about the murder.”

“If you ask me, it’s one of those actors. Or that horrible painter. Their type is always the cause of violence.”

“I see. And the big fight you had with Ezra Parker, what was that about?”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t that big a deal, really. He wanted more money to pay for repairs on the hotel.”

Which is ludicrous if these people have any idea what’s out there.

“I wasn’t feeling well that day and lashed out a bit at the poor man. I really should have listened to him more.”

He hummed. “I found evidence that Mr Parker was embezzling from you and the other investors…”

“Oh, well I really don’t believe that. Mr Parker wouldn’t do such a thing, I’m sure.”

“And all the … stuff … in here?”

“These are our things,” Julianna said primly. “We’re just waiting till the war blows over so we can bring them back to the mansion.”

Are they honestly all so fuckin’ clueless as to not know what’s out there? How much time has passed?

“All right. I do have some other people to question, so I’ll be going.”

“Good luck catching the murderer, detective,” Julianna said in parting. Rather smugly, all told, or contemptuously skeptical.

The beach was through the communal shower area (men to the left, women to the right) and through a façade of normalcy, what looked like a wooden storefront with a center door and windows to either side. The beach itself had a short boardwalk, a dirt area pretending to be sand, and a painting on the far wall of a sailboat on the sea, all enclosed in a rock and dirt cave. A few loungers rested on the “sand”, complete with sunshades.

“You think anyone actually felt like they were at the beach here?” Valentine said. “Yeah, me neither.”

Straw-Hat (or Gilda) was tooling around in the water, but she rolled up to the dry area when they were noticed. “Hello again, detective. Here for my acting stories, I assume?”

“About the murder…”

“Perhaps if we were better … acquainted … I’d be willing to share what I know. Care to hear some of my stories, detective?”

“Sure.”

“Did you know they were thinking of making a TV show of the Silver Shroud? Between you and me, Keith’s agent had an inside track to get him the role.”

Gossip duly shared, he tried for an actual question. “Mrs Riggs had a loud argument with Mr Parker recently. Did you happen to overhear any of that?”

“Oh ho ho! Yes, I haven’t seen a woman go off like that since Theresa Dubois fired her costume designer. But to get back to your question… It was fever pitch, detective. She had apparently gone to the overseer’s office to check on the state of things and found it in horrible disrepair. But, and this is where it gets interesting, it sounded like she found something that really set her off. Couldn’t hear what, though.”

“What are your thoughts on the murder?”

“Well … it is a bit strange how obsessed Santiago has been with the murder. I mean, he’s always been a bit obsessive, though. He did a whole series of paintings of me, hundreds! Said I was his muse. It was flattering for a while, but the man is a bit much. Even for me.”

“Found a baseball bat at the scene, Mr McKinney’s. Any thoughts on how it got there?”

“I don’t know, detective. I can’t really imagine Keith killing Ezra.”

“And what you two were talking about when I entered earlier?”

“Oh, that? We were rehearsing! Got to stay sharp if we are going to rebuild Hollywood. But Keith always gets flustered when he’s upset.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

“I’ll be around. Languishing from your inattention.”

Back out in the hallway Xeul said, “So, Mr Riggs, then, if I’m counting right.”

He hummed. “With a quick stop at Avida.” He backtracked to the artist’s lair and asked about why he kept returning to the crime scene.

“It’s for inspiration, detective! The others don’t like to think about it, but even we shall die some day. Like Prometheus’s torch, it kindles within me the fire to create as much art as I can, with the time I have.”

“And so many paintings of Gilda. Why her?”

“Our Gilda is a very singular creature, detective. Do you not see the joie de vivre within her? I have never met another who clings to life so tenaciously, who lives so in the moment. I must admit, I was quite smitten with her for a time.”

“Ah, you’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

“So what if I am?” Avida said defensively. “What business is it of yours? She deserves someone who truly understands her ephemeral beauty, not that brute actor.”

“I see. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Bert Riggs was in the classroom. His signature item was a red bow-tie with white dots. “Hello again. Did you need something?”

“Hello, Mr Riggs. Have you noticed your wife acting strangely lately?”

“Oh, well I’m probably just being paranoid, but… She’s been so much more pleasant lately. I mean it’s been nice, but also a bit unnerving. Most people don’t understand us, but I always appreciated how she can just take charge of a situation. It’s what allowed me to focus on my research. I’m worried something has happened to her. She doesn’t seem like the same person.”

“Could you elaborate on ‘not the same person’?”

“…My wife has always been a very harsh woman, detective. I don’t know who it is in our room, but that is not my wife.”

“Do you know anything about the argument your wife had with Mr Parker before he died?”

“Well, I was here in my lab at the time so I didn’t … didn’t hear it, but Julianna has always been rather critical of Mr Parker. I think she found something in the overseer’s office. I wasn’t listening when she told me about it. I … I kind of had my head in my research. I don’t know, really. I try to let her handle all the money stuff.”

He nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Riggs.” He led them all out to the vault entrance for a modicum of privacy and smiled. “So, my fellow Cluedo fanatics, have you solved the mystery?”

Most of his family rolled their eyes at him.

“First issue: the identifiers they wear are all very cute, but easily switched around,” Daemon said.

“Second issue: they’re in robotic bodies,” Xeul said. “How hard could it be to tinker with the voices? A tweak here, a modulation there…”

“Third issue: the obvious is very obvious, and I agree with Valentine that the clues left behind are a deliberate attempt at misdirection, and clumsy ones at that,” Sin said.

“Fourth issue: Mr Riggs says that’s not his wife. Everything else is incidental,” Hayato said.

“Which leads us to…?”

“Well, duh,” Ken said. “Parker killed Riggs after she found out about the embezzlement, swapped her mask for his tie, and fucked with his body’s voice.”

“Awesome. Let’s go confront the killer.”

“Julianna” was still in the Riggs suite. “Ah, detective. Did you have more questions about the heinous murder?”

“Not a question as such. You are the killer.”

“That’s just silly, detective. Why would I want to kill Mr Parker?”

“Oh, and you have a reason why it couldn’t be you?”

“I’m sick all the time, detective. I don’t have the strength to do such a thing.”

He snorted. “Right, sure. Ezra Parker—that would be you, by the way—was embezzling from his investors. Julianna Riggs—that would be the deceased out in the dining room—found out and confronted Mr Parker, who planned and executed her murder, then framed someone else. Poorly, I might add.”

“It’s a shame,” Parker said, the voice going from a woman’s to a man’s, “I thought I could keep the ruse going a little longer. Ah well, had to end eventually, I suppose. I hadn’t planned on it, but Julianna figured out what I was doing and had to be dealt with swiftly. I thought I could get more money out of this place before making my escape. This doesn’t have to end in more violence. Just, walk away. I’ll leave and you can tell them I escaped. What’s it going to be, detective? Join me in getting rich, or die defending some outdated ideals?”

“No deal. No more murder for you, no convenient escape.”

“Then let us end this,” Parker said ominously, then tried to drive his claws hands straight into Tsuna’s torso. He missed, of course, and was gunned down in no time flat.

Valentine shook his head. “They really have no concept of how much time has passed, do they? They’re just lost here.”

“Sadly,” he said. “On the other hand, these ones are not like those psycho Robobrains we encountered before. Let’s go update what’s-his-face.”

Escort was right where they’d left him, standing vigil over the victim.

“The killer has been found. Ezra Parker killed Julianna Riggs and took her place to hide his tracks.” ‘Pun intended,’ he thought to himself.

“My word! I never thought Mr Parker was capable of something like this. What happened when you confronted him?”

“He attacked me, but it’s over now. He will no longer be an issue, and the remaining residents are safe.”

“Ah… Here you are, detective. Payment for your services and a bonus for uncovering such a heinous plot. I don’t think we could have done it without you.” Escort forked over $400 in pre-war money, which was just another clue that none of them _had_ a clue.

Shockingly (not) when they rode the lift back up, the nearby bank of two (only one of which was labeled as out of order) had a functioning lift which took them from the basement to the ground floor, to the lobby, rather than needing to shift out or take the long way.

“I say we take a break, and in the morning get on with the Children of Atom issue,” Chikusa said.

After murmurs of agreement all around, they did just that.

The Nucleus Children of Atom were winnowed through to find the simple believers, who were tagged, and the murderous zealots. The whole base was flooded with sleeping gas so they could quietly shift out the former, then execute the latter (the corpses were shifted into the same tomb the Nuka-World raiders had been sent to). The base was then scrapped for everything of worth, recycled, and the material cubes dropped off at the famiglie warehouse in what was once Vault 75.

That left the issue of backup generators at the island settlements, and a potential secondary source of fog condensers and parts. The former took a fair amount of time, especially as they had to work around the settlers living in each location. Digging a cellar to fill with generators was not a task easily concealed for the average person, though Samsara was anything but average.

Avery was somewhat suspicious of their intentions, but when Tsuna explained why he felt Far Harbor should not be reliant on just the wind farm to keep the fog condensers running, she gave the okay for them to proceed.

Verde, when they checked in, said, “They are interesting, and I’ve made up fabrication plans for them, as you asked. I’m not so sure they would work well on normal radiation, though.”

“We can bring you samples of the condensed fog if you’d like. I don’t know how much it’d tell you, though,” he said.

“Yes, yes, if you get a moment.”

“We weren’t sure if they’d be of any use down this way, with the radiation storms, or if it’s more a matter of continuing to clean up any radioactive waste and nuclear material, and making sure everyone goes through decontamination and a medical check each time they come back from venturing out.”

Verde shrugged, which said none of it particular excited him. “We’ll see.”

“I still don’t see how we can set up trade of those things,” Hayato said once they’d left. “Not believably. Maybe instead we just leave a small warehouse at each settlement, with replacement fog condensers and replacement parts? There’s only so much we can do, and I’m not comfortable with handing out more Recyclers and Fabricators to complete strangers. If they wanted to create more settlements on the island, they wouldn’t be completely reliant on Acadia to lend them a hand, though they would have to figure out how to power them.”

“We could do that,” he said. In truth, he was starting to wonder. They had experienced most of the content the game had provided, though not gone through each and every building or location to say they had “done it all”, so what else was left aside from a hilariously stupid death? Turning Nervous-Stutter at Diamond City Radio into a more confident person or dealing with Bobbi No-Nose in Goodneighbor were not all that important.

Valentine was off in Diamond City, taking care of the usual petty things he was normally paid for, and they decided they might as well head off on a scrapping run. None of the famiglie needed their assistance, but there was always a need for scrap, even if not right that second.

It was, therefore, just when they had stumbled over a crashed alien ship, quite a surprise when Tsuna felt ice-cold fingers down his spine a second before he found himself trapped in a column of light—straight out of a cliché—and beamed into what was far too high tech and sci-fi of an atmosphere. He opened a window on reflex so his family could see what the hell was going on, and eyed up to two Roswell-like aliens eyeing him back from the other side of a forcefield or something. In fact, they rather resembled the animatronic aliens from that one roller coaster ride at Nuka-World.

His family all stepped in looking somewhere between amused, puzzled, and pissed off, which caused the aliens’ eyes to go alarmingly wide. One lifted its hand so it could burble something into the cuff on its wrist, and then all hell broke loose as some kind of field snapped into place.

It was only later, checking in from his next life, that they were able to tentatively decide that the aliens had likely panicked, tried to use some technology to knock them out, and it had reacted very badly with their flames or magic or chakra. Stephen Russell, the poor man he’d been inhabiting, had been reduced to a pile of ash, and half the room had been blown to bits.

The two aliens did not survive.


End file.
